


Just Take My Hand

by HiMiTSu



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drifting To Save A Life, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-05-27 08:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15020714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiMiTSu/pseuds/HiMiTSu
Summary: Second war is over but Hermann's world is still falling apart. With unexpected help, he is ready to do anything to bring back the person he loves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have actually started writing this right after the movie came out, which was...almost a year ago? Well, this took ages to finish and edit. The idea is abviosly nothing new by now, but I should metion that I do not read for a fandom for which I am wiritng so any similarities to other stories, and they should be considering the plot, are coincidental. 
> 
> I hope anyone will still be interested:D Let me know what you think!

“We need to lock him up. No contact with the outside world.”

“Lock up and throw away the key? Yeah, like that will solve anything!”

“Well, he can’t be allowed to roam the base!”

“No one is talking about that,” female voice, calling out to reason. “We still need to treat him humanely.”

“Well, he is not human!” Pentecost junior, shouting over the commotion. The anger in his voice hushed all conversation for a second, but then the argument picked up with new vigor.

Herman wanted to clasp his hands over his ears to block out all the shouting. If only he wasn’t so invested in the subject. If only he wasn’t so helpless with his mind being a big jumbled mess.

“That’s not technically true. We can’t just...treat him like this.”

“Yeah? After everything he has done?”

Not _him_ , Herman wanted to protest. _It_. It killed. It destroyed. It opened the breach. It…

“We still need him,” Ranger Lambert barely keeping in the anger, but always trying to be rational.

A scoff from someone - probably someone particularly bloodthirsty, but Herman didn’t turn to look who. The worst part: they had the rights to feel that rage, desire for revenge. Only they were directing it at the wrong person - Hermann wanted to say that, but his throat closed up and he felt like if he opened his mouth at that moment only ugly sobs would come out. It was too much. Way too much, way too soon. At the time of crisis, it was easy to suppress those feelings, but now that the dust had settled, it was like there were needles digging under his skin.

“To open the breach,” Pentecost declared. “We need him to open the breach.”

Hermann’s grip on the can was so tight, his hand was starting to hurt.

“You are serious with that?” Liwen Shao, who had been quiet for the duration of the conversation, spoke up. Her voice was soft but strong, it made everyone in the room pause. Hermann assumed they were looking to Pentecost for a reply.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” There was no doubt in his voice.

Hermann didn’t know what that meant for the world, for their future. It seemed such an insane move; Hermann could see the point but he was in no state to analyze all the pros and cons. Still, he saw his chance. He knew what that meant for _him_. “Newt is the only one who knows how to do that.”

Turning around to face the room was hard, but Hermann had faced things far more terrifying than that. Somehow, still, it felt like the stakes had never been this high. All the eyes turned to him.

Pentecost was quick to reply, “It’s not like he will tell us.”

“He might,” Reyes countered. “Even if he is not himself, precursors might. They do want to take over our world, right?” There was an underline of fear to her words; it reflected in everyone’s eyes.

Lambert looked like we wanted to protest but swallowed down his reply. Young rangers were standing behind him, unsure of how to act. Scared but determined, they watched their superiors decide the fate of the world. The last attack had left PPDC without command, a small crowd of rangers the only leadership left. They had support of Lewin Shao but who knew how much that amounted to these days. Hermann couldn’t help but be reminded of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. A ragtag group struggling to save the world. It was a crazy time. It was also a happier time. Simpler.

 “Let me work with him,” Hermann said, as clear and loud as he could. He voice didn’t waver, his eyes held Pentecost’s. “Let me try to get him back,” he continued before anyone tried to protest. “And I’ll find out the way to open the breach in the process.”

“This is madness,” Lambert muttered.

But Pentecost just looked at him, steadily, and asked, “Can you really do that?”

Hermann had no idea. Any sense of stability he had had was lost. Any confidence was wiped out by the hurricane of emotions in his chest: the pain, the betrayal, the guilt. But worst of all: he genuinely, didn’t know.

“Yes.”

Pentecost regarded him silently for a long moment. Somehow, almost naturally, he had fallen into a role of a leader. He glanced at Lambert and then at Reyes, gauging their reactions, but it was his decision they were waiting for. He turned to Shao first, “What do you think?”

“I am no fan of Dr. Geiszler’s,” she replied calmly. “But I believe that he deserves a chance.”

That wasn’t what Pentecost was asking and they both knew it. Hermann was grateful for unexpected support. He was even happier to hear her add:

“I will work alongside Dr. Gottlieb.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Lambert turned to Pentecost.  

Hermann felt the tension of the moment. His leg was starting to hurt, all the standing up but most of all the stress, and his hands were shaking but if he gripped the cane any tighter it would rattle against the floor. His mouth was dry and his head was one haze of a prayer. To whom, he didn’t know, but a litany of words in his native language and one simple plea – _please -_  filled his mind.

A sharp nod. Hope. Tension draining left Hermann lightheaded. He was pretty sure the whole room heard his relieved sigh. “I’ll…” Voice caught in his throat. Hermann tried again. “I’ll proceed then.”

“And we’ll start on re-building the jaegers,” Reyes proclaimed, stealing the attention of the room. She nodded at the young rangers who were happy to finally be involved.

Hermann took it as his chance to slip away.

He stumbled as soon as the doors slid shut behind him. Thankfully, the corridor was empty so there was no one to witness his moment of weakness.

He had a chance. A chance to save Newt. A terrible, impossible task that would tear him apart in the process. But he had his chance. And he was going to do everything he could.

“This is going to hurt,” Hermann muttered under his breath.

* * *

 

They started simple. Shao still had some resources and her lawyers were working hard at clearing her name and putting as much distance between the incident and Shao Industries as possible. Hermann preferred blissful oblivion whenever he thought whom they were packing all the blame on. He concentrated on the task at hand.

Newt’s apartment was as messy as Hermann imagined. It had a polish of wealth to it, certainly, something Newt no doubt enjoyed, but, in the end, it still was one big mess. Shao had given him the address and a team so he set up a time and then arrived two hours prior to have a look around on his own.

There was a bottle, still open on the kitchen island.

A book on the floor.

A tie on the couch. Clearly thrown away in a fit of annoyance. Newt’s ties had grown significantly fancier with time. This one was a far cry from a crooked skinny one he used to wear in Hong Kong.

A pair of glasses on a coffee table. In a sudden flash Hermann remembered how in the last years Newt only wore shades. Never glasses. Did he start using contacts or was improved vision a side effect of his bond with the precursors? A question to ponder later.

Hermann turned to the bedroom. Took a steeling breath.

The bed was unmade, expensive sheets a mess. Typical. Lights still on, dim. Floor to ceiling windows opened out to a beautiful view of the city, darkness of the night just settling in. Even this messy, the room made a lovely picture. Somewhat tantalizing even. But Hermann chased away that line of thought swiftly.

There was a yellow green glow, coming from behind a wall, a corner of the room that could not be seen from the living room. It was unpleasant, sinister, but Hermann just might have been projecting. He strode forward. His cane caught on something - a waistcoat, dark purple, thrown carelessly on the floor. Hermann shook it off with mild irritation.  That minor distraction might have been the reason why he was so shocked as he turned the corner.

A tank full of dark yellow liquid - that was a source of the disgusting glow. Inside…

A kaiju brain. Alive, beating in constant motion, shifting, floating. _Alive_.

A shock of terror ran down his spine. An unconscious reaction prompted by numerous nightmares – every night they came into his dreams, precursors and kaiju, their roar, the blue luminescent glow of their blood, and that tank. That tank in the middle of their old lab. The beginning. The source of Hermann’s fear.  And now, circling back to that moment. A kaiju brain.

There were wires, connecting it to the plate on top of the tank. More wires leading to a headpiece, just like the one Newton had scrambled from garbage at Hong Kong Shatterdome; except this one was more exquisite, created with actual cutting edge technology. Put together with one purpose only: to create a neural link to this brain.

“Alice,” Hermann breathed out. The name triggered a memory, but he had to chase it down to remember it fully. What was it Newton said? Come to dinner, you can finally meet Alice? Hermann remembered the spike of jealousy the best, shooting like acid through his veins. Now, he only felt horror. It was ice-cold, squeezing at his heart. He swallowed it, pushed it down. Now was not the time.

Hermann inspected the tank, checking out the controller, the headpiece, the electronic lock on top of the tank. It seemed as if the brain was following his motions, gently floating in whatever direction he moved. Hermann had an urge to wipe off the writing from the tank. Was it in lipstick? Where did Newt even get it? But doing so would feel like destroying a part of Newton. Naming a monster felt like such a _Newt_ thing to do, he must have still had some sense of mind when he did that.

Tiredly, Herman slumped into a chair. It was facing the tank directly - kaiju brain had a front row seat to his misery. Newt drifted, sitting in this chair.

Where did he even get the brain? Was it the same one Newt drifted with the first time? Trust the idiot to keep it out of sentimentality. But no, that one was fried after the drift. Where did Newt get another one? Chau? Not necessarily, there were many scrappers these days. Stupid, Hermann shook his head. Not every scrapper can get a live kaiju brain.

Hermann lifted his head from where he had it buried in his hands. Was it synthesized? With new eyes, he inspected the brain again. There was no way to tell; if it was a copy, a clone, it was perfect. But Newt needed a subject to start his cloning experiments. This should be it.

Patient zero? Hermann let out a mirthless laugh. It was a stupid joke and it started a wave of hysteria that had been threatening to hit for days. He laughed until he couldn’t breathe, until tears spilled from his eyes, until the laughs turned into sobs and he put his head into his palms again, curling into himself. The cane cluttered the floor. With blurry vision, Hermann saw it land near a science magazine. An old issue, with yellowed pages and bent corners; familiar faces on the cover. Hermann remembered that photo shoot, one of the few Newt convinced him to do. He looked ridiculous in it: grinning stupidly and leaning onto Newt as they stood side by side. Newt looked handsome, but then, to Hermann he always did.

He picked up the magazine, holding it carefully. Did Newt look at that picture before drifting? After, to keep him grounded? Or was it just an artifact of the past, thrown down and forgotten, just like the waistcoat at the threshold?

Hermann’s watch beeped, an alarm clock going off. Shao’s team was scheduled to arrive shortly. He wiped at the tears on his face, breathing deeply to regain his calm.  He was willingly putting himself through this torture, not knowing what awaited at the end. But it was his choice and he was going to follow this through.

By the time the team arrived Hermann was a picture of professionalism. He found Newton’s laptop in the top drawer of the desk and, even if most likely it didn’t have anything useful on it, the things still needed to be inspected. Newt’s tablet was destroyed during the battle, but Shao had promised to check the company servers for any traces of his activity. Hermann had a feeling that Newton had left a trail the size of a highway, not caring about being discovered. In the end, he knew it would all blow open.

Hermann wondered, not for the first time, how much of Newt there was actually left.

Shao’s team worked with perfect efficiency. They bagged everything that seemed even remotely important, carefully packed the technology and hid away any papers. Hermann enjoyed their work ethic, it was easy to slip into a persona of professionalism when everyone payed attention to his commands but turned a blind eye to any expression of emotion. Hermann waited until their work was done, perched on the edge of a sofa and waiting patiently.

“Sir, should we take these?” One of the men was asking while holding a pair of glasses. Hermann regarded them for a moment, too long to seem impersonal but the man did not comment on that, merely waited for a reply.

“I’ll take them,” Hermann replied. The glasses were placed into his hand. Their black plastic frames so painfully familiar, Hermann had to duck his head to hide his expression.

* * *

 

“This is...more insane than I thought it would be.” Shao admitted, but her voice, smooth and calm, didn’t sound surprised. She never really did, Hermann learned during the short time they had been working together. She reminded him of Mako. Beautiful but always so controlled, so serious. Genius, self-sufficient, confident. And that, too, hurt.

Thinking about Mako. Her life, her death. Just a couple of weeks ago everything was wonderful. There was just a memory tarnishing the light, never distant and never fading, always terrifying but still a memory. A thing of the past, not forgotten, but kept at a distance. He had a job he enjoyed, a new team training at the base, people he did not mind calling friends. Newton was still as far away and unreachable as ever, but at least he was happy. With his fancy new job, and those expensive suits and best gadgets. Hermann liked to think Newt was enjoying his life.

Last time war came as a wave, slowly crushing everything on its way, gaining momentum gradually. This time it was like lightning, hitting them fast, not giving time to recognize what was happening until it was at the final stage. No time to mourn, no time to even think. Mako’s death hit them hard, losing a dear friend never got easier. But there was another reason Hermann didn’t let his mind dwell on that for too long. When the man you love kills your friend - there is no way to get over that.

“I’m going to run his software through our system,” Shao broke through his thoughts, mercifully.

“That’s a...a good idea.” Hermann frowned at his own stutter and bent over his desk. Shao’s team had found some notebooks, thrust haphazardly under Newt’s desk. It wasn’t like Doctor Geiszler to keep a handwritten journal, but the notebooks looked old and well-worn, revealing lines and lines of Newt’s chicken scrawl handwriting inside. Hermann ran the pages through his fingers, but they were suspiciously lacking diagrams or drawings – something else that had changed in his subject notes.

That, as Hermann realized upon turning back to the first page and scanning a few lines, was a personal journal. Newt had a diary, Hermann thought dumbly. So strange the idea seemed to him. And then, when it sank in, he recoiled in his seat as if burned and slammed the notebook shut. His hands were shaking, heart racing.

“Everything alright, Doctor Gottlieb?”

“Fine,” he pushed out too fast to be believable. Hermann cleared his throat and tried for a more casual tone; he almost succeeded. “I’m fine. Sorry for disturbing you.”

Shao narrowed her eyes but didn’t question him; a hologram in front of her was showing a graph and she turned her attention back to it. “According to the data I managed to extract from Newton’s tech, he had been using the device almost daily.”

Hermann took another look at the graph, now that he knew what it visualized. “That’s horrible. For how long?” He shoved the journal into a top drawer of his desk, leaving that particular temptation for later.

Shao looked up from the data again but this time her gaze was different. There was something in her eyes, fear or regret or pity. Whatever it was, Hermann knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“For almost eight years. Here is the first time,” she pointed to the beginning of the graph. It was meager at the begging, spaced almost evenly with large intervals of time, but as it progressed, as years passed, Hermann realized, Newt was using the drift more and more, up to a point where he united his consciousness with a kaiju daily. “It gets worse with time.”

There was no need to point that out, they both could see clearly how Newt’s madness progressed. Eight years...and that’s considering this was his original software, not the point two version. It was terrifying. What brought Newt so low? What made him do this in the first place? To drift with a kaiju – Newton knew how horrible that was; the first time was a stupid experiment that almost killed him. The second was a necessity, but at least with Hermann to share the neural load, it was less of a disaster. And to do it again and again, for years...What had happened to Newt? And, more importantly, how had Hermann not noticed?

“How is he still alive?” The question was out before he could stop it. Hermann wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. Shao was looking at him as if she knew he didn’t.

“A drift with a kaiju must have had some effect. I don’t know if it’s possible to change someone’s DNA that way, I’m pretty sure it’s not, but…” Shao shrugged. “We’ll need to run some tests.”

“He stopped wearing glasses,” Hermann replied. It took a moment for Shao to catch on.

“But the…”

“Shades, yes. Not glasses.” Hermann pushed the pair the team found in Newt’s apartment closer to the edge of the table, so that Shao could see them. “And not all the time. I never paid attention to that, I just assumed…”

When was it, that Newt switched his usual glasses for stylish shades? Wasn’t it sometime after the photoshoot that Hermann despised but secretly enjoyed? That magazine...he still had it in the last drawer of his desk, buried under a stack of old notebooks, but he didn’t want to take it out, to check the date. Because that might mean Newt’s problems started even before the estimated date: when they still spent enough time together for Hermann to notice something. Newt had just went corporate, as he liked to call it, and Hermann had found himself leading whole new department at PPDC. That was more than eight years ago. The realization left him reeling.

“Do you think Newt’s DNA might have been altered?” He asked faintly, pushing his mind onto another subject.

Shao must have noticed his use of passive voice. She looked slightly lost. “I’m not sure. We can find out, though.”

“Yes, we...we probably should.” Oh, he sounded pathetic even to his own ears. But Shao nodded as if she didn’t hear the weakness in his voice. “Anything else useful in that data?”

“Unfortunately, we have no way to know what of all this data is actually useful to us,” Shao cracked a small smile. “But there is something else that is curious.”

She swiped the graph away and pulled up a table of data. “Here is the record of responses from the kaiju brain. It looks like it wasn’t always responding in the same way. During some drifts it was barely active.”

“Not talkative? Interesting.”

“It will take time to process all this, but I believe some of this data might be helpful in our case.”

_Our case._ Shao took to this research earnestly. Hermann wasn’t sure about her motives, but she had proved herself as a loyal comrade and a good honest fighter; he trusted her.

Instead of pouring over Newt’s journals Hermann decided it was time for him to look at Newt’s tech. It wasn’t far from his first creation, even though that one was made from garbage while this one from parts that actually fit together. Still, the principle was the same. It was just another painful reminder of the times long gone. Hermann’s hands itched to disassemble the cursed thing but he had a notion they still might use it. That was another dreaded thought but Hermann had been avoiding way too much lately to put that aside as well. He had a plan, from the very beginning he knew what should be done, and still he lingered. Details mattered - that was also the truth, so he allowed himself to hold onto the hope that his plan would work at least for the duration of the time it took to figure out the details.

* * *

 

“I have noticed your name had not showed up in the logs,” Shao commented the next day. She didn’t bother to sound casual; she was looking straight at him, while a code of her own creation was picking apart Newt’s programming.

No need to ask what log she meant. The list of people allowed into the cell was abysmally small and no one bothered with it since Hermann took over. He had a carte blanche but somehow it only made him sick.

“I’ll deal with that when the time comes.” It came out cold, thankfully.

 Shao didn't’ say anything else. Not long after she retired for the night, leaving Hermann alone with the whirl of machinery and his own thoughts. Shao’s station was giving off a pale blue light as her program ran, there was also a weak light over Hermann’s desk, but other than that, darkness ruled the lab.

Hermann was reluctant to leave. He had his own room just two sections away, a rather comfortable and nice place. The new base was such a big step away from Hong Kong Shatterdome. This one was built during the time of peace so comfort was just as an important factor as efficiency. Hermann had a small bedroom along with a living room equipped with a kitchen corner, a bathroom to himself, with an actual bath in it, bookshelves and a small desk in the corner, even a potted plant on a coffee table. It was nice, cozy. He had made this place his home. But sometimes, when he left the chatter of the labs and hallways behind, locked the door and looked out into the dark of the room, a wistful pang would tug at his heart and settle a heavy weight of melancholia upon his chest. In Hong Kong, his room was spacious but it was a mess: with leaking ceilings, mold and rust hiding in the corners. It was unpleasant, but no one bothered with comforts when the end of the world was just behind the corner. Newt’s room was just behind the wall. Often, he played music during the nights and the heavy bass was the most annoying thing Hermann had heard in his life, second maybe only to the squeaky sound of Newt’s voice. It was strange, how after the war was over Hermann came to miss that, the music but more so the voice.

An electronic beep penetrated the silence, Shao’s program had finished another stage. Hermann looked down at his notes but the words swam before his tired eyes. Avoiding sleep was not the best course of action, Hermann was aware of that - had said the same thing to Newt over and over again - but sleep was a terrifying prospect. Old nightmares of another world, full of creatures hell-bent on destruction, were now completed by an image of Newton, his face contorted in pain and his body turning unnaturally, features twisting, hand reaching out, eyes wild, toxic blue seeping into the irises…

Hermann jerked awake. His face was pressed into his palm uncomfortably, glasses askew. The darkness around was empty, safe for the sound of Shao’s workstation. Hermann got up to his feet unsteadily. There was a cramp in his back from sitting in a chair for the whole day, he rolled his shoulder to dispel some of the tension and grabbed for the cane. First steps were difficult, they always where after a long rest, but he maneuvered around the furniture in the dark expertly.

The corridor had only had the emergency lighting on, as was usual for the night; soft yellow glow lead the path in the middle but left the sides in the dark. The path was going both ways, to the left - to the outer sections of the base, including the living quarters. A way on Hermann’s right lead further inside, deeper inside the base. The floor sloped downward slowly, barely noticeable.

Hermann’s mind was playing tricks on him, because it looked like the shadows on his right was darker, dense as if the darkness became a tangible substance. A chill ran down his spine and hairs on his hand stood on end while his mind conjured images of that darkness reaching out to him, grabbing onto his limbs, laying a blindfold over his eyes, muffling his screams, dragging him down. The scariest part - in that vision he did not resist.

A sharp thud startled him - Hermann didn’t remember taking a step, not to mention leaning on his cane so hard the sound echoed off the metal under his feet. Hermann looked down at his legs as if they betrayed him and, resigned, took another step. Each brought him further into the base, the downward slope getting more pronounced along the way.

This way lies madness, Hermann thought morbidly. He did not stop, not until he was standing at the end of the corridor with a massive metal door blocking his way. A heavy circular lock protruding from the door was nothing but a formality, a panel on the side flickered with red light. Hermann’s handprint would be enough to open it. So easy, reach out a hand, press your palm to the panel and here goes your prize. A lifetime of misery and regret. A mirthless laugh escaped his throat, he was starting to sound like Newt.

Hermann switched the cane to his left hand, leaning on it uncomfortably; he reached out. Dread spread through his veins.

Hermann pressed his palm to the metal of the door; it was cold and damp from the condensation. Paint was peeling off, it scraped against his skin as he slid his palm over it.

What was he doing? Was there a point to any of this? Was he brave enough to open this door and face what was on the other side?

Hermann’s forehead pressed to the cold metal. His eyes squeezed shut, he imagined he could look through it, seeing the cell from the inside, dark and ghastly. A harsh white light from the ceiling. A chair…

He stopped before his mind could conjure up the whole picture.

“Why won’t you come in?”

Hermann’s eyes flew open even as he pushed himself off the door with enough force to make him stumble backwards, almost falling. The voice was faint, barely carrying through the heavy set door. Still, the coy notes played out, so cheerful it was sickening.

“Come on, man. Don’t just stand there.”

Newton’s voice was so _normal._ He sounded just as Hermann remembered. He expected some malice, a venomous undertone, but Newt was just _Newt_. Except he had registered Hermann’s presence through inches of steel and was way too normal.

That thing inside him knew how to play the part. Hermann crossed the line, from this moment onward he could not trust the being that had Newton’s face.

Hermann eyed the door wearily.

“Chicken?” Newt’s voice taunted.

Hermann could imagine a smirk tugging at his lips, eyes crinkling at the corners, nose scrunched up just a little. Those smirks of his used to irritate Hermann to no end during their first months working together; somehow with time he got used to them, and later grew to look at them fondly. So Hermann knew that smirk and even though he did not see it at that moment, it hurt to know that this abhorrent thing was using it against him.

The best course of action would be not to reply, not engage it before he was ready - and Hermann surely didn’t feel ready yet - but he stepped back towards the door. Before he could impulsively unlock it, Hermann turned around, pressing his back to the metal. His leg protested with a sharp stab of pain as Hermann lowered himself to the floor awkwardly.

“Aw, come on, man, seriously,” Newt’s voice had an edge of irritation to it. “Let me see your pretty face.” A lilt was playful - it made Hermann nauseated.

He sagged on the floor, head in his hands. The ache in his chest was turning into a dull throb as the exhaustion took over. Maybe he could just spend the night here? Why bother going back when the nightmare would follow him anyway.

The thing on the other side of the door was growing restless. Hermann could hear the rustling on clothes and could imagine Newt fidgeting in his seat; except this sounded more like thrashing. “Why are you making me wait?” Newt’s voice whined.

Hermann bit on his lower lip, the petulance was so familiar. He remembered Newton,  sleep deprived and on the verge of collapsing, bugging Hermann into getting him coffee. He asked again and again, in such a ridiculously childish manner, until Hermann finally gave up and stalked away to get the man what he wanted. He was tempted to do just that now.

“Why are you making me wait?” A shudder ran through Hermann. An unpleasant, as if metallic, tint colored the worlds. He remembered it very well - he heard that just seconds before Newt’s hand closed around his throat.

Hermann got to his feet. His hasty steps echoed in the following quiet. He stalked away, further from the door, wearily expecting more pleading or threats but nothing came. Newton was silent. Hermann left.

His heart was beating furiously and he got to his room quickly, running on adrenaline alone.

He dropped into bed and let the nightmares take him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos! They are the best encouragement an author can get!:D

“Doctor Gottlieb, how is the, uh, the research?” Ranger Lambert landed in a seat across Hermann.

Half an hour prior Shao had kicked him out of the lab, insisting that having a lunch out in the mess hall would be good for him, and now Hermann was paying for a moment of weakness that made him cave by having to make _conversation_. Lambert was looking pretty cheerful and that only worked to dampen Hermann’s mood. At least the man had the grace to look uncomfortable at Hermann’s flat stare.

“Sorry,” he picked at his food. “I just meant...is there any progress?”

“Yes,” Hermann growled through his teeth. They were making some progress, in fact, but even though he considered Ranger Lambert a good honest man, he felt like they were on different sides of this. Ranger Pentecost was out of his mind with that plan to open the breach and invade, and so was everyone with him. However, their ambition allowed Hermann to pursue this research and gave him a way to help Newton, if there still was a way to help. Hermann’s already sour mood only grew more sourly.

Lambert was watching him closely, in a manner that made Hermann want to fidget. At least they both looked equally uncomfortable.

“Listen, I’m…” Lambert started, stubbing his fork into a steak that tasted like rubber. He glanced away. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

A wave of mortification washed over Hermann. He certainly wasn’t ready for that kind of a talk. He opened his mouth to somehow put a stop to this but no words came out. His eyes stung and his throat closed up. It was so sudden, Hermann was stunned. Those who had full knowledge of what had happened either treated Newton as a major villain, or, not knowing how to deal with it, ignored his existence completely. Hermann preferred the later, even though he would have appreciated some form of...well, sympathy. Exactly what Ranger Lambert was expressing. The abruptness of it caught Hermann off guard.

“I know you two were close,” Lambert continued. “Losing a friend is never easy. Even though, Geiszler is not lost yet.” He amended quickly.

Hermann dropped his eyes to the table. “Thank you.” It hurt but it lifted some weight from his chest, just a small part but it still felt better. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Good,” Lambert nodded awkwardly. “For what it’s worth, I hope you can save him.”

“I do too,” Hermann muttered under his breath.

He was ready to take his chance.

* * *

 

“Miss Shao, if you could please help me out with the equipment,” Hermann asked from the threshold.

He crossed the lab at a brisk stride, cane tapping urgently with every step. There was still fear at the back of his mind and his heart beat faster in his chest but the resolution was stronger. The headset was still on his desk and he gave it a cursory look over before putting it on a side table. All Newt’s equipment had undergone a rigorous examination; it was, if slightly insane, but in perfect working condition. The second set joined the first, this one looking older and slightly banged, obviously an earlier modification, found stuffed into the back of Newt’s closet back at the flat. A mass of wires was thrown on top.

When Hermann glanced up from his preparations – Shao was watching him intensely. Her sharp gaze assessed the mess of the small table as he wheeled it around the lab, adding transmitters and adapters, carefully settling a laptop on the lower shelf. Her hair was up that day, which always made her look more severe. Hermann tried to ignore her dark eyes following his each move.

“What are you doing?” The question was cursory – his actions were self-explanatory. Shao knew what he was doing. They were aware of this moment approaching since he took to the task.

Still, it felt earth shattering to admit, “I’m going to drift with him.”

“It’s dangerous.” The protest came immediately. It was on the tip of her tongue already.

He replied just as swiftly. “I know.” Hermann threw a couple of writes onto his portable table and dragged it to the other end of the room. It made a horrible clatter.

“You might also become affected.”

“I know,” Hermann checked his papers, sliding his glasses on and giving one more glance to the calculations. Everything seemed to be in order.

“Doctor Gottlieb,” her tone was urgent. “This is a very serious matter.”

“I know.”

“They might take you over as well.” She stepped up, halting his progress.

Hermann paused. Lines of numbers and formulas on shoddy yellow paper gave him confidence to proceed, but in his heart, he knew the truth. No one could predict what would happen. There was no way to measure how much of _Newt_ there was left and how strong the precursors were. Was their influence still as persistent even after days without drift connection? Newt’s behavior suggested, it was. However, he chose to believe in the strength of Newton’s mind.  

Hermann looked up at Shao, taking in her frown, her mouth set in a stern line, her dark eyes full of worry.

“I know,” repeated resolutely. She watched him closely for a long moment but her concern clashed with his determination.

Finally, she said, softly, “I did not know you were this close to him.” For a moment, her gaze turned cloudy, as if she was searching for a memory within herself, but she shook it off soon, focusing on Hermann instead.

It was funny, Hermann thought with an edge of hysteria, the thing she had assumed, the thing that became so glaringly obvious as Hermann’s desperation grew...that _thing_ was not true. But he couldn’t force a denial past his lips. More than anything, he wished for that thing to be true. Wished he could have been strong enough to take that step. Before. When everything could have been salvaged.

“Newton is very dear to me,” Hermann admitted. The pity in Shao’s eyes was unbearable but he didn’t look away. “And I plan to bring him back. Or at least do everything possible to save him.”

After a moment of silence so long it felt like an eternity passed, Shao gave a quick nod. Her posture relaxed and she stepped back, giving him way.

“I will help. But please note that I consider this madness.”

Hermann’s mouth twisted in a grin: madness was usually Newton’s forte. “I can live with that.” He retorted. “Thank you.”

Shao gave him another moment to change his mind and then, seeing how there was no chance of that happening, she turned to her station, typing quickly.

“Software should run smoothly. I have checked the programming, so we should not encounter any problems. Alien or otherwise,” she glanced at him over her holo screen. “Do you have any conclusive plans on what to do once the drift is activated?”

“I’ll have to improvise,” Hermann retorted with a confidence he didn’t feel. “There is no way to plan ahead for this.” He pushed his portable table loaded with tech to the exit. “I will set up and await your arrival.”

Shao gave a distracted nod of agreement, either truly busy or knowing he needed a moment alone on his first meeting with Newton.

“Also, Miss Shao,” Hermann added from the threshold. “I will have to ask you to monitor my condition closely. If I show any signs of a...changed behavior...you must bring it to the attention of my superiors.”

“Of course, Doctor Gottlieb.”

It was nice to work with professional people for a change, was Hermann’s last thought as he stepped into the long corridor leading downwards.

The trip seemed even longer than the last time. The roll of metal wheels of the table disturbingly loud in otherwise silent corridor. Hermann pushed with one hand, while he leaned heavily on the cane clasped in another. He leg was hurting, but that wasn’t anything new. Stress and lack of proper rest did not improve his condition and he refrained from taking any medication, cautious that even slight alteration to his mind would hinder him in his task. He needed to be strong in the drift. Stronger than Newton had ever been. Stronger than the creatures that made Newton’s mind their home.

Hermann was scared. He was strong enough to at least admit that.

It felt like hours had passed and he was finally standing before the wretched door. Everything was silent on the other side. Hermann pressed his palm to the pad on the side - it gave a little chirp of approval and the panel turned green. A heavy lock disengaged but Hermann had to manually turn a massive handle on the front to push the door open all the way.

He was leaning on it awkwardly while his eyes took in the room for the first time. It was dark, only dim emergency light shining over the empty space and the chair, set in the middle, like some ridiculous centerpiece. Hermann found the setting distasteful and unnecessary harsh, but apparently, the precursors where set so heavily into Newt’s mind, the man now shared some traits with them.

Hermann’s gaze fixed on the chair. It was enforced steel, big and heavy with menacing latches to keep the prisoner in. Newt’s legs and hands where shackled. His once pristine expensive suit was all dirtied and rumpled. Hermann weakly recalled appreciating how the new suits fit Newt’s body, making him look sophisticated but careless. He was more used to the old look, remembering fondly the skewed skinny tie, but there was a certain attraction in this new image as well. However now Newton was nothing more but a faded picture of himself.

The suit was ruined, dirty and torn. For the first couple of seconds Hermann’s mind was stuck on that. Probably, because moving on with his observations would be torturous. Newt’s skin was unnaturally pale, dark veins stood out at his neck and at his temples. Hermann wasn’t sure if it was the lighting or trick of his imagination, that made it seem like they were glowing an electric blue from within. Newt’s hands were balled into fists; there were bruisers on his wrists where the restrains cut into them harshly, visible even over the colorful tattoos. His breathing was slow, a gentle rise and fall of his chest. He was so still, Hermann assumed Newt was asleep, but as he stepped over the threshold, he could see Newt’s eyes watching him. The table clattered over, breaking the quiet.

Hermann watched. He was watched in return. By a thing that had a dear face, but the expression was sinister. Newt was grinning. A manic light shone in his eyes and his lips were turned up in a smile that looked more like a grimace, teeth just peeking out in a grin. Predatory.

“Hello, Newton.” That felt like the right thing to say. Hermann’s mind had planted a course of how this should go, but predicting how responsive the subject would be was practically impossible.

“Hermann,” the thing hiding behind Newt’s smile crooned. “Herms. Buddy.”

Hermann wanted to ask, “What did they do to you?” Except that would not be fair. _What did we do to you?_

“Newton,” he repeated, tone cool and collected.

Newt’s face, that started turning down into a frown, split again into a huge grin; it would have been friendly if not for the foreign glint in his eyes. Something malicious and _other_ hid in their depths.

“How are you feeling?” Hermann dragged his tray over to him, pushing it into the spot of light. Wearily, he glanced at the restrains, gauging how strong they actually were.

“Perfect,” Newton’s voice rang clear and almost happy. It was like nails over chalkboard for Hermann.

He was still grinning, but his jaw was tense, a vein standing out at his neck and his teeth pressed together with a force that should have been uncomfortable. It looked as if it took effort to keep the grin on. His hands were balled into fists. A drop of sweat made its way from his hairline down his cheek. Hermann swallowed nervously. He glanced at the door, taking a second to listen for Shao’s approaching steps. Everything was quiet.

Hurriedly, Hermann stepped before the chair. His cane was left leaning on the table so he planted both hands on the hand rests, just over shackles on Newt’s wrists. He leaned down so he could speak softly.

“Newton,” Hermann called out gently, gaze locked on Newt’s eyes, searching their darkness for a sign of something familiar.

Newt moved, a motion languorously slow, pushing his whole body up, back arching from the chair, neck bending backwards, head tilting upwards, so his face would be closer to Hermann’s. His irises caught light - bright blue shining around the green. From this close Hermann noticed the tight lines crossing his forehead, his ashen skin, his chapped lips. His breathing was faster than normal and his pulse was beating rabid fast at his throat.

“I need to know…” Hermann choked on his words. That’s why he was avoiding Newton ever since the man was made a prisoner. He knew words would fail and emotions would overwhelm and he would be useless. Helpless. He pushed on forward. “I need to know if you are still in there.”

Newt’s lips parted in a breath, loud in the space between them. Hermann held his own, expectant, hopeful. Everything was still for a short moment. Hermann didn’t even notice how he was leaning down, hands over the shackles on Newt’s wrists, watching his eyes. His eyes...A blink and it seemed, it looked like...the bright blue receding, letting the old familiar green to bleed in. The irises running down to the shackles, to the side, catching a glimpse of the room, and up to Hermann’s face. Frantic. Another breath - a promise of a word…

“Sorry, Herms.” The grin was back.

Hermann recoiled in shock, grabbed for the cane blindly.

“Newt isn’t home.”

Blue. Dammit, Hermann hated that blue. Sharply, he turned to the table, rushing through set up.

“Oh yes, come join us.”

It was reckless to start without Shao. She gave him a moment of privacy to reel in his emotions and prepare for what he was about to do.  Hermann shouldn’t be using it to establish the neural link. Still, his fingers flew over the keyboard and his gaze skipped over the final calculations. Hermann reached for the headgear. First on himself, then over Newt’s unruly hair. He was in a hurry and that was good because Hermann had no time to think, no chance to change his mind.

Newt was watching him with sharp focus. A sly unpleasant grin hid in the corners of his mouth. Hermann glanced at him one last time, his mind a prayer to no one, begging for help. But he only had himself to rely on; in this only the strength of his mind could help. Hermann hoped it would be enough.

Newt’s posture was relaxed, back slumped and limbs spread as much as the restrains would allow, but there was tightness around his eyes and Hermann wondered, if it was the precursors who worried or if it was emotion left over from the real Newt. Hermann didn’t let that thought develop, it would only make the doubt stronger; blindly, with his eyes trained on Newton, he pressed the button.

Sensation he thought he had forgotten crashed onto him; the world narrowing into a tiny point of focus, pressing down on him from every side, making him feel like a tiny speck in the universe. And then, expanding beyond measure as his physical body lost any sense of importance and his mind was the only medium. His only existence. A computerized voice was saying something but Hermann couldn’t care - he was tumbling through a vast expanse of space. Space that shone blue and consisted of stars he did not know. It was a startling and terrifying realization but Hermann pushed it aside, concentrating on what he did know.

Newton.

A shape, vague shadow on his way past.

Newton.

A laugh, unpleasantly grating on his nerves.

_Newton._

_A classroom. At university, from the look of it. Students with their eyes glued to the front, not even taking notes but listening. Some of them smiling. A girl at the front desk with a stupid love-struck grin. A guy, sitting just behind her sulking. A textbook - biology - Hermann cranes closer to see. On the front, something that looks like a T-rex, but its skin is blue and luminescent. Hermann jerks back. He remembers this scene. He knows, if he just turns around, he would see…_

_The scene slips away from him even as Hermann is reaching out to grab onto the familiar figure before the whiteboard. Always averse to chalkboards, Hermann thinks fondly._

_“What the hell do you think you are doing?” A voice booms overhead, echoing from the walls that aren’t there._

_Hermann shrinks on himself - a response ingrained into his very bones. A fear that has nothing to do with alien monsters burrows in his chest. A panic spikes but he presses down on it with rationality. His father had never shouted at him in English. As soon as that passes through his mind, a cry runs out._

_“Get out!”_

_“Newton!” He is looking around, frantic, searching for the source of that voice, searching for Newt._

_“Get out of here!” It sounds scared and ragged with a thin layer of anger._

_Hermann whirls on his heels, quick and swift here in the mind, without a cane, without the limp. But he still only catches a trace, outline of a figure vanishing into blue._

_“Newton!” He shouts after it, dashing forward with his hand outstretched but his fingers only close over air._

_There are sparks under his feet, a fog of blue spreading over the space. They reach for him and he jerks his hand back before they can touch._

_Voices ring through the air. Hermann stumbles back, every cell in his body urging him to get away from it._

_A siren is blaring somewhere in the distance. Which he would call ridiculous if he had time to concern himself with it. The fog chases after Hermann, turning the place into something from a horror movie. And how would Hermann know that? He had not seen a horror movie in his life._

_“Seriously?” Weak but recognizably amused, it carries over the siren. The fog, which he knows by now is Newt’s visualization of precursors’ consciousness, drives back._

_“Newton!” Hermann shouts again, anxious for an answer…_

And then he was blinking awake to a worried face of Shao. He was mildly aware of her hand on his face, slapping his cheeks and then taking off the headpiece, pulling some hair from his scalp in the process. He was on the floor. Hermann pushed her off gently, waving away the concern, and pushed himself up onto one knee so he could look over her crouched back. His other leg responded with a dull pain in a protest but all Hermann’s attention was on Newt.

His eyes were open wide, bloodshot and frantic looking. His head thrown back as he was staring up at the ceiling, unblinking. Unmoving. The pose was unnatural. Tension made veins in his arms stand out, distorting the images decorating his skin, as he strained against the shackles over his wrists. Tendons of his neck were stark against pale skin.

When Hermann looked closely, he could see Newt’s whole body trembling with effort. He was aware of Shao letting go of him and rushing over to the chair; her hands flew over Newt’s arm, testing and then her fingers pressed at the base of his neck, checking the pulse.

It must have been too fast, for she darted upwards, scrambling for one of the IV drips and sending sedative to his veins. Newt’s awkward posture held for a couple moments longer and then he slumped in the chair, unconscious.

Hermann’s cane was on the floor by his side, he reached for it, clumsily getting to his feet. Shao’s face, when she finally turned to him, was a picture of cold fury.

“You shouldn’t have done this.”

Hermann might have preferred outright anger to her composed tone. “I know that. I should have waited for you.”

“The fact that you realize it doesn’t make it better.”

“You are, of course, right.”

Her silence lasted long enough to make Hermann nervous and when Shao finally gave a curt nod, a wave of relief washed over him. Short-lived as it was it worked to make him slightly better.

“What did you see?”

Hermann spent the rest of the hour struggling to put his experience into words.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermann bent over the microscope with polite curiosity, even though he couldn’t exactly understand what Shao wanted him to see. His biology skills were subpar; he was used to having a partner who was able to look at the other side of things, leaving Hermann to worry about numbers. Blood cells were not his area of expertise.

“Pentecost had set up a new research team,” Shao commented, not looking away from her screen. The manner was off-hand but not enough so to fool him. She continued when Hermann didn’t speak up. “They are trying to figure out the way to open up a breach. They are not having any success so far.”  If Hermann didn’t know better he would have claimed there was dry satisfaction in her voice.

Sometime during the last couple of weeks she had stepped over to his side so completely, his dislike of Pentecost junior must have rubbed off on her. It wasn’t that the man wasn’t honorable and strong, a good and compelling leader – it was his treatment of Newt that got Hermann angry. Shao, who he had always thought to be cold-hearted and calculating, had turned surprisingly sensitive. Her presence that irked him at first was now a welcome comfort. Well, not so much when she was trying to show him blood cells under a microscope.   

“I still don’t see how opening a breach is a good idea.”

“They are very set on it.”

Hermann was slowly learning the differences between her many dry intonations. “Well…” He finally leaned away from the slides. “As long as they are still figuring it out, we have a chance.”

His mind flashed back to previous evening. The mess of Newton’s mind, taken over by a violent force, but not completely, not yet…

Hermann shook off the vision, “I’m sorry, what do you want me to see in this?” He indicated at the microscope with his free hand.

Shao’s delicate features turned into a frown for a second before she got away from her station to stand by his side. A few quick taps on a touchscreen and the hologram was before them. “Newton’s blood work is...insane.” She huffed, “He must have been taking some medication.”

Hermann croaked through a lump in his throat, “Drugs?”

Shao pursed her lips and flipped through the shots on the screen. “Something of his own making, I assume. And see, here,” she pointed out a particular groups of cells. Even to Herman’s untrained eye, they looked unnatural. “This is inhuman.”

Herman bit on his tongue, stopping himself from blurting the question. Shao didn’t make him wait for long, “Kaiju. As you might have guessed already,” she added. “We know Newton cloned them. It won’t be far-fetched to think he could have used kauji DNA for something else.”

“Precursors wanted him to be more like them,” Hermann muttered.

It was a scary thought. Precursors working through Newt to not only destroy the world, but destroy _him._ With his own hands they created a concoction that turned Newt into a horrible travesty of a kaiju.

“That’s what made him so resilient to...Well, everything. He had been hooked to an IV for weeks now, only getting basic nutrition to keep the body alive. And still he looks healthy and strong.”

Shao nodded slowly, hair falling into her eyes and hiding her expression. “It is madness. The drug altered his brain _and_ blood chemistry. There is no way to predict the long lasting effects.”

“Will they ever leave his system?”

“I believe they will. The effect is not irreversible.” The reply came easy and fast - believable; Hermann breathed out. “However, it might take a long time.”

“We’ll worry about that after we purge those horrible things from his mind.”

And that was that.

* * *

 

This time Shao was in the room with him. They had dragged a chair along and had a better set up overall.  While she mostly ignored the man shackled in the middle of the small space, Hermann could barely tear his eyes from him.

Maybe it was just his imagination, maybe it was the dim lighting, but to him Newton looked exhausted. He barely lifted his head when they came in and refrained from making any scathing remarks. He watched them work, silent but observant. His breathing was too loud. It was the thing Hermann’s mind fixated on, as Shao turned the screen for him to look over the numbers, as he fell into a chair, carefully leaning the cane by the side, as Shao passed him the head piece. A shiver of distaste ran down his spine as the cold metal settled on his temples. He always knew drifting with a kaiju would bring disastrous consequences - it was obvious now how thin the illusion of normality had been.

“Ready?” Shao asked. Her voice rang sure and clean, giving Hermann enough strength for a sharp nod. “I will be monitoring your vitals. For the both of you,” she glanced at Newt. “And I will pull you out if something goes wrong.”

Something will definitely go wrong, Hermann thought but kept the remark to himself. Shao gave no more warning before initiating the drift.

_Second time is easier. Third one really, but the first one was so long ago… the whole word narrowing into a pinpoint and expanding into a universe so vast and terrifying._

_Hermann gasps but the gasp is of mind not of the body and so even though he hears the sound he know his physical lungs are not expanding and his breathing remains level. He surveys the stretch of space around, a bright wasteland with ever changing shapes of light and shadows. He dwells on it for a couple of moments until the shapes start to resolve themselves into monsters. The space changes along with them, turning into a memory of the other universe, what Hermann had glimpsed during the very first drift, and then his own memory is overcome with theirs and the space shifts again creating a more life-like replica. It is fascinating and horrible at the same time. Hermann takes a moment to commit this to his memory and then turns on his heels and runs._

_Here, in mindscape, he is not kept back by the limitations of his body._

_Hermann startles as he hears a roar resonating through the emptiness. A scene is unfolding before him - monsters, just the way he remembers them - and he takes a sharp turn - but the images follow. He is inside their mind. Roar turns into a language, constructed from clicks and clacks and guttural sounds, and then turns into words that he can understand._

_Does Newton know their language? It is a concept that is as fascinating as it is heartbreaking. Hermann tunes them out. It is Newt he came here to find. It is Newt he is searching for in this muddled fog of a consciousness._

_He calls out the name but there is no answer. Hermann whirls on his heels, trying to look past the alien scenery, ignoring the towering figures that seem to get close without actually moving._

_“Newton!”_

_And still...nothing. Not even a glimpse of the familiar mind. Not a whisper, not a shadow…_

_Only the kaiju, and it feels like they are becoming more and more aware of him with each moment. Like his presence has slipped unnoticed at first but now that he was making a fuss they were turning to him. An open maw, all teeth and a doubled tongue. Ridges down the spine. Four eyes searching the fog. Hermann feels the moment they zero in on him. Unconsciously, he takes a step back. And then another. And another. And he is scattering backwards, getting confused over his own feet. He has to force himself to look away. Through all the attacks he had survived, Hermann had never actually been this up close and personal with a kaiju._

_Newt’s words rang in his mind -_ I wish I could see one up close someday _\- ring in his mind, edited by their prophetic quality._

_Kaiju roars, throwing its head back. The ground shakes under Hermann’s feet._

_In the next moment, he is pulled back from the nightmare._

It took Hermann a moment to get his bearings. Once again, the first thing he saw was Shao, leaning over him, watching him. “Are you alright?” She asked; unlike the last time, her question lacked worried urgency. So this drifting session must have gone at least slightly better.

“Why did you pull me out?”

“Your heart rate was getting into dangerous territory. And Newton’s.” She added just as he opened his mouth to protest.

Hermann looked over at Newt: his hands were balled into fists but it didn’t hide how they were shaking. In fact, his whole body was trembling with tension. Which was strange, Hermann thought, since he didn’t feel Newton’s presence in the drift, unless…

“How did it go? Any progress?”

Hermann hesitated with his answer. There was no trace of Newton’s memories in the drift, no shadow of his mind, no echo of his voice, however...the precursors didn’t see Hermann until he started bringing the attention to himself. It was as if he was shielded from their collective mind, still residing within Newton’s head. Something was looking out for Hermann in that strange land. Someone.

And the act of doing so had obviously exhausted Newton.

“We probably shouldn’t do another session in the next couple of days,” Hermann offered. He allowed Shao to pull off the headpiece, more gently this time, and shut down the program.

“I agree,” she replied; her tone suggested that it might be the sanest of Hermann’s ideas so far. “His body and mind need some rest, as well as yours.” A pointed glance in his direction - Hermann felt caught on the spot, trying to surreptitiously wipe his bleeding nose. “I will do another blood test to see if there is any progress with the drug.”

The drug. Hermann got to his feet just as Newt’s eyes flew open. Tremors were still wrecking through his frame; he looked small and vulnerable, strapped to that chair with an IV hooked to his arm. One bag of meds to keep him sustained, another - for occasions when he needed to be sedated.

Emboldened by his last revelation and the feeling of hope expanding in his chest, Hermann reached out to cover Newt’s hand with his own. The tremors stopped the moment their skin touched, Newt’s body sagging in relief. Tired eyes watched him, lips parted on each heavy breath, but no words coming out. Possibly, for the best.

“It’s alright,” Hermann muttered in a whisper. “It’s going to be alright.”

It felt like a promise - one he was not at liberty to give, but was making anyway. Newt’s bloodshot eyes were searching his face; there was no way to see who was behind that gaze but Hermann hoped, hoped so badly, that it was Newt looking back at him.

“Alright,” Hermann repeated past the lump in his throat.

Newt’s eyes lipped shut, head falling forward onto his chest. In a moment of panic, Hermann glanced at his vitals, but nothing had changed. Newton had either fallen asleep or passed out. Drifting might had been more exhausting for him that they thought. But then again, Hermann concluded, this could be a good thing. He would take any proof of Newton’s humanity he could take.

He ran a hand through Newton’s hair, self-conscious with Shao at his back but still desperate for some contact. He wished so badly to give some comfort. It was long overdue, a whole decade, however there was no use in dwelling on that.

Hermann hoped to do better in the future.

* * *

 

It had been so long since Hermann had been to the mess hall, but with the break from drifting he needed something else to do. His day at the lab was not productive at all. With only Newt on his mind he could not concentrate on any of the other projects; images from the drift kept popping up in his mind and he drifted off more than once, sitting uncomfortably in his chair and with his head on the table. Each time he jerked awake with bright blue light burning behind his eyelids.

Distraction seemed in order, thus a trip to the mess hall. The crowd was thin at this time of the day, too far from lunch and not close enough to dinner: a small group of scientists in the corner, new faces so that must be the team Pentecost and Lambert had brought on for the new research. Going that way would surely lead to a disastrous argument unfolding. They would start asking questions about Newt and his inventions - Hermann wasn’t in a mood to fend off annoying inquiries. He turned in another direction. At the far wall he could see a familiar figure of Reyes. Tray balanced in one hand, Hermann headed in that direction.

Reyes glanced up as he sat down across the table from her, at first curious and the surprised. “Doctor Gottlieb,” she gave him a tired smile. “It’s been a while since I saw you at upper levels.”

“Yes, I....” Hermann couldn’t think of a good reply. Something along the lines ‘I wouldn’t have come if I had anywhere better to be’ did not sound like a good conversation piece. “How are you doing?”

She huffed, seeing the question as an aversion it was, but replied, “Alright. Repairs on the jaegers are almost finished.” Reyes listed off with tired satisfaction. “Young pilots are doing good. And we started plans for new jaegers.”

Hermann’s interested piqued at that, which must have shown on his face because she leaned over the table, careful not breach his personal space but close enough to lower her voice in confidence. “We could use your expertise. Those kids are talented but you are the expert.” Her eyes had dark circles from exhaustion and too much work, but they still glinted with excitement. This huge task that hang over her was a burden she happily carried. Hermann had always admired that about Reyes. Her talent, her work ethic, her enthusiasm.

“As soon as I finish my ongoing project,” Hermann retorted evasively.

Immediately, Reyes dropped her eyes. She stabbed at a piece of broccoli with her fork, which reminded Hermann of his own choice of food. Not particularly hungry, he started at his oatmeal.

“How are things going?” Reyes asked, directing the question to leftover meatloaf on her plate. “Any progress?”

Hermann swallowed past the lump in his throat. Blue flashed behind his eyes and the expanse of alien landscape superimposed itself upon reality of the base. He croaked out a “Yes,” that didn’t sound very convincing but Reyes was kind enough not to point that out.

They were joined by Shao later and then the gaggle of the young pilots spilled into the mess hall. They all settled around Reyes and Hermann, filling the space with their chatter. They sent Hermann surreptitious glances, unable to reign in their curiosity but he found he didn’t mind.

Hermann had finished his oatmeal - he did get a couple of incredulous looks for having breakfast food so late, not to mentioned the most boring breakfast food ever - and even got a cup of tea, they had some brand that was no completely terrible, and still stayed even when that was finished. It was comforting, being surrounded by people, careless even in the face of what was coming. They chattered about everything, from ice-cream flavors to their jaeger training and at some point Nanami turned to Shao, thanking her help with navigation systems.

“You are working on the jaegers?” Hermann asked, lost.

“A little. Whenever I have spare time.” Her reply was free of any judgement but to Hermann it felt like a stab at his conscience. He was selfishly keeping her down in his lab, while her skills could be more useful to the PPDC.

Shao picked up on his mood but didn’t say anything expect, “It’s no more work that I’m used to.” Said in her strict manner it would not have been reassuring for anyone else, but Hermann took the words for what they were: assurance that she was quite capable of taking on all this work. Hermann instantly felt stupid for doubting that.

It was maybe an hour later that people started leaving the table, returning to their duties. The young rangers rushed off to work on their jaegers, Shao disappeared with Nanami to discuss more modifications, it was only Hermann and Reyes left once again. They walked together to the door, keeping conversation light.

“I’m going that way,” she jerked her head over her shoulder to the corridor on their right. That one would lead up to the ground level of the base, away to the sea and warm sunlight. Hermann watched people rushing in both directions for a long moment, wondering whether it would do him some good to spend time out in the fresh air.

But while his mind enjoyed the idea, his soul was dragging him back into the lower levels. “I should head back to the lab,” he said apologetically.

Reyes nodded and stepped back, giving a small wave before disappearing into the crowd. “Good luck with your work, Doctor Gottlieb!”

However it wasn’t the lab that Hermann turned his steps to. He passed it quickly and scrambled to the downward sloping corridor; darkness pressed from every side as he hurried to his destination, worried that he might change his mind. It had occurred to him that, while it was a good idea to leave both him and Newton a couple days of rest to shake off the effects of drifting, leaving him alone for two days might have disastrous effects.

Hermann had felt the heavy thread of loneliness in the drift and for the first time he thought if that was the reason Newt had decided on his horrid experiment. When it came to Newton, Hermann always felt wrong-footed. Like he knew the man better than anyone and still every word, every move of Newton’s was a mystery to him. It was such a disconcerting dissonance that his head spun from how abruptly he went from one to another. One moment he knew everything there was to know about Newton, in the next - he had no idea what was going in that brilliant messed-up head of his.

The door opened easily for him now and he almost stumbled over the threshold in his haste.

As soon as Hermann stepped into the radius of the overhead light, he knew coming was a mistake. It wasn’t Newton staring back at him from the chair.

“We have been waiting for you,” the thing said, a lazy grin stretching Newt’s face. “Alone today?” Mocking. With no reason to mock but still mocking, every word poisoned with slow self-confidence. They were toying with him, but Hermann had nothing left to do but to play along and hope that he was not a pawn but a knight.

“I figured, I’d pay you a visit,” Hermann retorted levelly. He switched his hold on the cane, taking a steadier stance in preparation for a long wait.

Newt’s head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowing. “Are you ready to join us? Is this a surrender?”

“Nothing so drastic, I assure you.”

“Oh, you are all composed now. Right? I dig that.” His eyes travelled all over Hermann’s frame appreciatively. It was a look that would have flustered Hermann sometime ago, now it made his skin crawl. It also gave him an idea.

He narrowed his eyes at Newt, trying figure out his chances judging by how much of _Newton_ there was left. Hermann’s mind was used to thinking in numbers, percentages, yet they failed him now. Newt’s irises were swallowed by blue almost completely - did that mean there was only 10%  of him there? 5? 3? None at all?

 That chain of thought was counterproductive. Hermann had a plan, or, more accurately, 15% of a plan. He squared his shoulders for the next question. “Do you remember the day we met?”

Confusion flashed in the blue, and that emotion must have belonged to precursors. Hermann preferred to believe that Newton’s reaction would have been different.

After a pause that lasted a beat too long came a reply. “Of course. Hated your guts at the first sight.” The tone was merely an imitation of Newton’s cheerfulness, stilted and flat. They didn’t understand where the conversation was going and so it was harder to map out behavior pattern.

“Feeling was mutual,” Hermann retorted easily. A particular sense of calm helped him stay levelheaded; he didn’t know where it came from, maybe he was so done with the never-ending anxiety he was at the point where nothing mattered anymore. Except one thing did matter… “Do you remember what you said to me then?”

Newt’s face scrunched into a frown. “Something about what an asshole you are?” Something dark lurked in those words, his features smoothed out into an impassive mask. He settled back into the chair comfortably. “Man, you were annoying. In those old-man clothes of yours, and the glasses on a string...Your proper words and your ridiculous love of numbers. Like, seriously, man? Acting like you are better than everyone else. Just because you now fucking math.” An ugly laugh resonated off the metal walls in the tiny chamber. Hermann didn’t let it hurt him. The knowledge that Newt was far under the surface at that moment gave him strength to stand up to this thing.

They had never talked with Newton about that fateful first meeting. Despite that, Hermann heard the falseness in the precursor’s words. Yes, the two of them left that meeting despising each other, but not right away, not at the first sight...Hermann had been disconcerted when a strange little man, eyes excited and manner twitchy, approached. It was only logical to try and get rid of him quickly and efficiently. It was only after the man, his expressive eyes huge with surprise but his lips quirked in an amused grin, announced his name, with rather unnecessary flourish, that Hermann gave him a proper look over. Messy and jittery, tie screwed, jacked rumpled. Tattoos peeking out from under rolled sleeves. Hermann learned later that that was Newt looking ‘professional’.

He must have been quiet for too long because the precursors were getting unsettled. “Are you going to cry?” Newt’s voice mocked, but it was a weak attempt of an attack. Hermann wanted to believe that it was a sign of them getting weaker, being unable to get a proper hold on Newt’s emotions and reactions. Or maybe it meant that there was less and less of Newton by the second. It was a never-ending game of guessing and hoping.

“Newton,” Hermann called out. He was feeling calm, settled. “I need you to remember our first meeting.”

He didn’t wait to see the irritation on Newton’s face, he didn’t need imagination to know it turned into anger, quick as a fire. He tuned out vicious words that followed him out. Hermann leaned on the heavy door, using his weight to slam it shut; hesitated a moment, leaning onto the metal. It was cold under his fingers, grounding. He could do this. He had a way.

* * *

 

The next day Hermann stayed in his room. He let Shao know they would not be working, so she was helping out with new jaeger projects, and he didn’t even bother going out. There was a small kitchen area, not particularly cozy but still efficient, and he made himself tea and sat down on the sofa with a book. Words swam before his eyes, his mind unable to concentrate on the text. He made an honest effort still, half hour of an old favorite, a book about mathematical jokes, but even that couldn’t distract him.

However, Hermann was persistent. He got dressed, meticulously choosing an outfit, even though he knew no one would see him. Nevertheless, it was something to do, a manual task that should bring back a sense of normality - a thing he didn’t think he’d ever miss.

As he was pouring over his third math problem, one of those he did for fun, Hermann had also realized that his sense of ‘normal’ had been thoroughly messed up sometime during the last decade. Still, he was resolved to have a calming day off before plunging back into Newt’s mind. He knew, with a clarity that had no real basis, that the next time would be crucial. His plan, so clear and logical, now seemed merely a hopeful fantasy. However, Hermann preferred not to dwell on that.

Some music helped him pass another half an hour, but he got bored with that too. He kept glancing at the laptop at the smaller version of a workstation, tucked away in a corner of the room. He only used it in cases when he couldn’t get to the lab and those were so rare, the software was so out of date it would take hours to have a full update. Maybe that could keep him occupied.

It turned out to be a tedious task as after the update started there was nothing to do but seat and watch the progress bar slowly turn dark. Hermann reached for another book, but classical literature could never hold his attention for long.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of air conditioning. Lights up almost to max, sweet herbal smell of the tea he had earlier. It would have been comforting if not for the anxiety buzzing under his skin. Flashes of blue and images of monsters were always just at the edge of his vision - left over from the drift or simply imagination running wild. A kaiju roar was always in his ears, sometimes so quiet it mixed with other noises, sometimes so loud, coming suddenly, he had to clamp his hands over his ears. In moments like those, he longed for Newton’s voice, calling out from the depths of his memory, soothing in how annoying and familiar it was. Calling him stupid names, complaining...confessing how glad he was to work with Hermann.

He wished for the past to come again; them side by side in a lab, bickering. Newt, hiding his smile behind a scowl, eyes, bright and happy, betraying his emotions. Research, without the mad urgency, without danger hanging over their heads. The companionship that looked spiky and unpleasant on the outside, but was, in truth, the best working relationship Hermann had ever had. They fought and they urged each other on, bringing the worst and the best in each other. Argument that started, fire quick, over a smallest matter, picking up until it brought answers to more serious questions, answers to problems that went way too long without a solution. It all came so easily to him when Newton was by his side. Even a mere thought of him was enough to propel Hermann’s mind. But not now…

Now, his head was a scrambled mess; thoughts all over the place. And while the past was a mix of sweet memories and waves of guilt, the present was a door he kept locked, only peeking behind it when faced with the sight of Newt’s bound form.

It was useless. Everything was useless. Hermann slammed the book shut, giving up.

No point in pretending he wasn’t anxious. He was terrified. He was hopeful. And that, above everything else, was the scariest thing of all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone even reading this? Because it feels like I'm just throwing this into the void, so this chapter is unedited. Hope I did not leave any horrible typos and factual mistakes.

Newton looked weak. His skin was pallid and clammy, droplets of sweat rolling down his temples. His head was lolling to the side and he could barely keep it up to glance at Hermann as the door to his cell opened. His eyes blinked, slowly. Once, twice before closing. He heaved a long breath and his fingers spasmed over the metal armrests.

When Hermann called his name, Newton jerked, startling awake once more. Eyes narrowed to slits regarded with exhausted calmness. There was red in them.

Shao checked his vitals, “The drug is leaving his system. Latest blood samples show a rapid decline, which is good for us. But painful for him.”

“A withdrawal was bound to be unpleasant,” Hermann remarked with detached calm.

He was watching Newt’s eyes, inspecting his reactions, looking for signs of recognition.

“Newton,” he called as he settled into a chair. “Remember our first meeting?”

And he let the drift take over his mind.

_Hermann’s senses are assaulted by sound. A high-pitched buzz that surrounds him; it takes a long moment for it to turn into a flow of voices. Conversations streaming around him. Chatter on topics far from mindless but, passing by as they are now, they seem nothing more than ordinary conversations. Hermann knows better. He is surrounded by the most talented people of his generation and he is genuinely happy with snatches of conversation that he catches._

_The room is blur as well, but it settles slowly, just as the sound comes down to normal level. It’s a hotel lobby. Details are still blurry, but that’s only since he doesn’t remember them all that clearly. A girl at the reception desk is in sharp focus - she checked him in upon arrival. Now she is looking haggard, but still smiles politely, as she hands him a note. He doesn’t take it - Hermann knows what it says - but still the simple sight of it, white paper and a loopy scrawl of his name, brings pleasure. Newton can make his handwriting especially lovely if he puts his mind to it. Hermann could just imagine him, bent over a desk, stringing words together, carefully drawing each letter - writing his long messages to Hermann. This is just a short note, boding their upcoming meeting._

_Hermann remembers the excitement. After years, packs and packs of letters, each carefully folded and put away for safekeeping, they were to finally meet face to face. Dr. Newton Geiszler, a phenomenal man. A mind like no other._

_He knew they were close in age, but that was the only thing Hermann was aware of concerning Dr. Geiszler’s appearance. It wasn’t something he had ever cared about, however now that their meeting was looming close he couldn’t help but wonder. Was Dr. Geiszler a man well put together? Judging by his careful penmanship he should be. It was only a year later that Hermann learned how much effort it took for Newton to sit down and put together a hand-written letter that wasn’t a mess of unintelligible scrawls._

_Was Dr. Geiszler more of a mess himself? Ruffled hair, glasses constantly sliding down his nose, rumpled suits?_

_What Hermann did see when he turned around at hearing someone calling his name was something else entirely._

_And now in the memory of that place, Hermann lingers facing the reception desk, weary that this time when he turns around there will be no one._

Do you remember the first time we met? _The question rings in his head._

_Colors around him are warm. Soft tones of yellow and green and a little red. No blue._

_Hermann turns._

_His heart skips a beat and then rushes like crazy. “Newt…”_

_There he is._

_Except. No, it isn’t him. It is a memory of him. Just like Hermann rememberes._

_That time, he saw a young man. Definitely, not a suit person. Jeans, skinny jeans. Ripped at the bottom, Hermann noted with some distress. Heavy boots. A t-shirt, old and worn but at least clean - with some bright graphic design at the front. A jacket - finally something semi-official. A sports jacket with sleeves rolled up and, good god, were those tattoos? Hermann was appalled._

_“So…” The man stepped up to him with a huge smile. “Doctor Hermann Gottlieb, right?”_

_Hermann’s reaction...was not dignified._

_Now, he looks at that memory with fondness._

_The phantom of Newt gives him a grin and steps up, just as Hermann’s mind remembers, before dissipating into air. As the cloud clears, Hermann can see another figure a few paces away. The grin is the same. Same grey eyes crinkling at the corners. Dark skinny jeans. White shirt. A strip of a crooked tie. Those damn tattoos._

_“Hermann?”_

_The lobby freezes. People milling about disappear from existence. Hermann looks and can’t believe his eyes._

_“You are persistent, I give you that.” It sounds like a thing precursors might say but his face is earnest, a small smile tinted with sadness._

_“Well,” Hermann fumbles with his answer. “I suppose.”_

_Newt glances around. “This is pretty clever. The hotel. Sticking to an old memory like that.”_

_Hermann can’t take this casual tone, this easy attitude. He asks, abruptly. “How strong is your connection to them?”_

_Newt doesn’t reply right away. Averting his eyes, he shrugs. “Pretty strong.”_

_“You can fight it.” Hermann is unshakable in his belief._

_“They are in my head, Hermann.” Newt’s reply is sharp and fast, tinted unpleasantly with something dark - ugly throwaway to that moment._

_The room flickers. Neon lights of numerous screens lighting up the space in blue, images of consoles interposing upon the hotel lobby. Hermann wills his mind to keep the old image stable, to chase away the memory of Shao Industries control room._

_Hermann bites down on an angry reply. “I’m in your head too.”_

_“Yeah, see, that’s not a good idea also.”_

_“I’m here to help.” Hermann rushes a step but hesitates, trampling down on his urge to grab onto Newton. To shake some sense into him._

_Newt’s face falls at that, he is biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut. The urge to go to him, offer comfort and reassurance in so hard to fight but Hermann keeps away, knowing when Newton needs a moment to compose himself. While Hermann knows that there is this thing between them, and they would do anything for each other, and that he wants to be with Newton in any capacity Newt would allow (and he feels at the back of his mind a tail end of Newt’s thoughts echoing his own) he is reluctant to initiate physical contact. He doesn’t know still what would be welcome. So he waits and watches._

_“I don’t think you can,” Newt finally admits._

_It hurts to hear defeat in his voice. With how still the room is around them, it seems like they have all the time in the world. But Hermann knows that time, in fact, is slipping through his fingers. It was a reckless move - to ask for Newt to hide them from precursors in this particular memory. He was counting on their shared connection to give Newton’s mind necessary strength to stand against them. But the memory is thin, walls about to crumble at any moment._

_“Newton,” Hermann pleads desperately, grabbing Newt’s hands. “I need you to fight with me. They can not control you anymore. Their power over you is fading, I know that. The more time passes since your drift the weaker the connection.”_

_Newt throws his head and laughs, loudly, bitterly. “There is a hive mind in my head, Herms. I don’t think you understand how strong they are.”_

_Out of the corner of his eye Hermann notices a blue fog blurring out the edges of the memory. “You are stronger,” he argues hotly. If only he can persuade Newton… “I know you are.” He insists when Newt looks away. “You are still here. Still holding on. You can take control over your own mind, Newt.”_

_“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Newton says quietly. He won’t look at Hermann._

_“I know everything, Newt.” And I still fight for you, he is scared to say but hopes Newt understand anyway._

_“Not about precursors, or about the invasion...about me.” His hands are shaking._

_Hermann feels the ground tremble under his feet. The lobby slowly fades into a blue desert._

_“I did something. To myself…”_

_There is no time for this. “I’m aware,” Hermann interjects abruptly. “I know about the drug. Shao says it’s effects would fade with time. You just need to hold on.”_

_Newt’s eyes are huge and scared when he finally meets Hermann’s gaze. He tries to tear his hands away but Hermann won’t let him. “I know everything. And I’m not letting you give up.”_

_“Hermann…” The name is a weak plea on Newt’s lips. It falls into the silence between them, only filled with their heavy breathing. Fear is obvious in his pale sunken face, his wide eyes, blown pupils, shaking hands._

_“Just hold on,” Hermann repeated fervently. “And I’ll do anything I can to help.”_

_Newt’s face scrunches as if he is about to cry, but his eyes are dry of tears._

_The last thing Hermann sees before he is forcefully thrown out of the drift is Newt’s desperate face as he rushes forward, grasping for Hermann._

Bright light hit Hermann’s eyes. He jerked, disoriented for a long moment, while his mind was coming to terms with the reality. There was sound of hurried motion before him but he didn’t instantly recognize what was happening. Through eyes narrowed to slits he saw Shao darting to their cart with tech and then back again to Newt’s chair. Her hands flew over his form, checking for something...No, keeping him down. Because Newt’s whole body was spasming in a seizure.

Hermann darted from his chair and almost fell. In distress he had forgotten about his leg and it gave out as soon as he put all his weight on it in a hurry. Thankfully, he grabbed onto an armrest in time. During his flailing Shao turned her attention to Newt’s IV, releasing something into his veins. She cursed when that seemed not to work.

“What’s happening?” Hermann managed to right himself and with the help of the cane was standing at Newt’s side.  

“I don’t know,” was Shao’s clipped reply. She grabbed another syringe from the tray. “He started thrashing. The meds are not working.”

In moments like these, it seemed the best tactic was to put Newt under. Rendering him unconscious turned off both Newt and the precursors battling for dominance in his head.

“Hold him down.”

Hermann followed the order, awkwardly leaning over Newt’s thrashing form. Shao was preparing another shot, except this one didn’t go into the IV. She pushed the needle right into Newt’s neck. It took a lot of effort to keep Newt from throwing her off, but at least when she stepped back, empty syringe held aloft, he pushed only once more before growing slack under Hermann’s hold.

Out of breath, Shao glanced over Newt’s chest at Hermann. “What happened in the drift?”

Hermann pressed his lips together, angry. “He was fighting back.” Newt’s face, calm now that his consciousness had been taken away so rudely, was drawn and tired. Dark circles under his eyes and frown lines sharp and prominent. “They sensed the resistance. Tried to take over.” His eyes met hers. “We are close. Soon, either he can throw them off or they will kill him, because they are not strong enough to take over completely.”

* * *

 

Hermann slammed his hands on the table in frustration. Anger was bubbling inside of him: at kaiju, at the unfairness of it all, at himself. The motion jarred piles of papers on his desk, reports and notes sliding to the floor. Tears of frustration veiled his vision and Hermann squeezed them shut, refusing to let them fall. Through the fog, he saw a picture peaking out from under a notebook. An old thing, commemorating the day they had closed the breach. Him and Newton beaten up, bloody and exhausted, but happy. Smiling carelessly at something off camera. It was a sentimental keepsake, a reminder of their time and their bond. It always helped chase away the nightmares of the drift by reminding Hermann that it wasn’t only the precursors he let into his head that day, but also Newton. With his own fears and hopes, everything dark and buried but also everything beautiful about him. Magnificently complex and contradictory.

Newt from the old days smiled up at him with the same elated grin. If only Hermann knew…but that was a trail of thought that lead only to despair.

Hermann usually hated to see his own face in pictures. Even in this one he looked ridiculous.

But happy. That stupid smile. Newton by his side. It might have been one of the happiest moments of his life.

Gingerly, Hermann picked up the photo. It was bent at the corners but still well preserved. Hermann shoved it into a pocket over his heart.

* * *

 

_This time Hermann brings his own memory into the drift. He is not leaving this to chance, he can not risk it. A dull pain under his breastbone is now weighted down by urgency and fear. Despite Shao’s assurances, this feels like the last time. Precursors are getting restless and Newt, wonderful, fearless Newt, is fighting back and that is not making his head a good place to be. He needs to take over before the monsters realize that they can not win. Because if they draw that conclusion…well, there will be no need for the vessel. They have already shown their power over Newton’s body: they can attack from within. They can kill._

_Hermann’s heartrate picks up and he has to bite down on his lip not to let it overwhelm him. He has other problems to solve first. Like dragging an old memory up to the surface and filling the space with it. Upper deck of the command center. Screens before him, stats and communications, grainy video footage from a search party – nothing but miles and miles of ocean. People around him; the whole room waiting with baited breath._

_There is a presence at his side, closer than anyone else. Smelling of sweat and dirt and leftover notes of a cheap but still rather pleasant aftershave. Nervous, twitching movement. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, clenching fists, shifting constantly. Hermann remembers: feeling trapped in this moment, world saved, breach closed but no note of the pilots yet. Hanging in that moment of trepidation and hope. Like this can not go wrong. After so much had happened, after so much lost – they deserve this one thing to go well. For Raleigh and Mako to be alright. To be safe._

_Hermann knows how this story ends but still the concern is palpable, so vivid it feels brighter than the memory itself. He is looking at the screen, just like at that time. Fixated on live feed from the helicopters sent to retrieve their friends. Hermann is riding this feeling until it brings the whole space to life. Crowd around him. Scrapped metal of Hong Kong Shatterdome painfully familiar._

_There is a touch, tentative fingers brushing his hand. Hermann doesn’t startle like he might have a decade ago. He allows the touch and turns his hand so his palm presses against Newt’s, their fingers entwining. It grounds him, makes colors more vivid, sounds stronger. Crowd erupts in cheers. Newt’s shoulder bumps into his. Hermann can’t help but smile._

_“That was a good moment, huh?” Newton’s voice is soft; fond and pleased it eases the tension._

_Hermann dares to steal a look: Newt is smiling, happy and careless. His hair is a mess. His clothes are all torn. There is dirt and blood on his cheeks but his eyes are bright and excited behind thick frames of his glasses. Hermann thinks he must be a mirror image to Newt, just as dirty but just as exhilarated._

_They won. “Yeah…”_

_Newt beams at him, his excitement now directed all at Hermann. “Yeah, man!” He leans his shoulder on Hermann’s fully, dusty worn leather of his jacket marring Hermann’s cardigan. It feels like coming home. He missed this warmth, this solidarity. It’s something he thought he got back after their interlude in the elevator but it was taken away so quickly, so abruptly, leaving his head spinning and the bottom falling from his stomach as the horrible truth turned his world to ash._

_Will we win this time, he wants to ask but doesn’t dare. It doesn’t matter though. Newt is in his head and the way his smile drops, slowly, sadly, replaced by distress is louder than any words could be._

_“Herms…” He starts but looks away. The scene around them is unfolding still, celebrations starting up – people cheering, hugging, jumping with joy. Hermann notices Tendo’s huge grin and pang of melancholy runs through him. He sees Hanson turning away from the festives. It’s sharp – this lightning fast whip of a feeling – how he misses not only that time but them. These people who were his colleagues and friends. He doesn’t even understand, if this pain is his or Newton’s. It doesn’t matter. He squeezes Newt’s hand. It’s clammy and sweaty, betraying the apprehension._

_“It’s alright.” And he means it. Hermann is tired of being scared and now he needs to be strong for the two of them._

_Newt laughs, a sad low sound that comes unbidden and startles Newton more even than Hermann. “Is it?” There is a raw edge to his voice and Hermann hurts for the both of them. He wants to put his arms around Newt, hold him tight and never let go so that the nightmares would not get to them. But he needs Newt to be able to fight on his own._

_“Yes,” he puts all conviction, all his belief in one simple word. “I’m with you.”_

_“You will have to leave,” Newt contradicts helplessly._

_“True,” he smiles despite the sadness. “But I am here for as long as I can.” His grip on Newt’s hand is so tight it must hurt, but Newt only clings back. “Can you be strong?” For me?_

_“Yeah…for you.”_

_Hermann notices the blue invading upon their scene. He ignores it in favor of giving Newt another reassuring smile. Newt’s eyes are red, it’s pathetically obvious how he is fighting back tears. He swallows heavily before trying to speak. “Thank you.”_

_“Just be strong.” It’s a plea full of hope, and full of love. Hermann leans in, Newt meeting him halfway, pressing his sweaty forehead to Hermann’s. They stay like that, holding hands and breathing same air while chaos unfolds around them. Hermann can feel Newt trembling and he sends all the confidence he has his way, hoping the small physical contact they share would be enough._

_“Hermann,” Newton’s voice breaks. It pains Hermann to hear him like this, so terrified._

_“You are going to be alright.”_

_“Promise?” Newton scoffs at his own question. He is aware this is not a promise Hermann can give._

_Sounds are becoming muted. They are discovered, they are hunted. Precursor’s imprint on Newton’s mind is strong, their hold tenacious and they grab at them, trying to tear them apart to devour what is left of Newton. But, despite their efforts, there is quite a lot of that left, Hermann thinks smugly._

_“I will meet you on the other side,” is the promise he can give._

_Newt presses against him like he hopes he could just cling onto Hermann and escape his own head. Eyes closed and his breath loud in Hermann’s ear. “Hey, Herms?” He says softly._

_“Yes?”_

_“We are totally rockstars.”_

_It startles a laugh out of Hermann. And it is the last thing he feels as he is thrown out of the drift._

* * *

 

Shao was once again reaching for the sedatives but Hermann’s protest stopped her mid-motion.

Newton was thrashing, fighting against the restrains. His eyes were wide open, but unseeing. Hermann swallowed down on his first impulse to hold him down, instead nearing carefully, if slightly unsteadily. There was something utterly heartbreaking in the way Newt’s weak form struggled, his short distressed sobs filling the room.  

Just as Hermann stumbled onto the armrest, falling heavily on it, Newton let out a hitched little sob that was so heartbreaking, Hermann had to close his eyes for a moment against the onslaught of emotions.  “I’m here,” he whispered, bending his head and pressing his forehead to Newt’s sweaty temple. His hand covered Newt’s, fingers curling around his palm to stop Newt’s reaction of pressing nails into his skin. It was wet with blood but Hermann held on tight, providing the only source of support he could give.

His heart beat madly in his chest and his voice was rough and quiet while he whispered into Newt’s ear: consolations and encouragements, sweet-talking and begging. Newton had to come out on the other side, there was no other way this could go. In all this time, planning and drifting, drifting and planning again, Hermann never really thought that things could go wrong. He was a realist but somehow, he never truly imagined a scenario where he wasn’t able to help Newt. Now though, all those nightmares appeared before his eyes, clouding his vision and bringing up torturous pictures. Newton waking up with only precursor’s mindset left inside of the empty shell of a body. Newton not waking up at all, the fight inside had taken up all the resources of his human organism. Newton dying, unable to cope with the strain.

“Please, please, please.” Words left him and he could only beg, pressing his lips to Newt’s messy hair and closing his eyes while he held Newt’s convulsing body in his arms.

Shao called out, suggesting a sedative once again, but Herman shot her down sternly. There was no use prolonging this fight. Whether Newt had enough strength to purge the precursors to the very back of his mind and take away control, or had to succumb to their take over, it had to happen now. Waiting would only prolong his suffering and give the virus of others’ thoughts a chance to destroy him.

It was hurting Newton, it was destroying Hermann, but it had to be done.

Hermann’s mind flashed to that first time. Not their drift with the baby kaiju when he could be with Newt every step of the way, both of them unable to steer but willingly giving up to the crazy flow of thoughts, all their memories combined with a vision of a terrible world. Not that. A picture that stood before his eyes when he pressed them shut, was one of Newton convulsing on the grimly floor of their lab at the Shatterdome.

When Hermann had tugged the headpiece off of him, severing the neural link, Newt’s body spasmed a couple more times before falling still. That second, as Hermann cradled him with one hand a scrambled to try and feel his pulse with another, just a second that lasted a lifetime while Hermann feared the worst had happened – that moment was overlapping so harshly with the reality that was happening now that Hermann’s mind was stuck with the heavy dissonance of this.

He had to swallow against the bile rising in his throat, stomping down hard on his feeling, because this was not about him. He could shake and throw up and fall apart later – but now he needed to be fully present for Newton.

The chair rattled. Metal was biting hard into the bruised skin at Newton’s wrists and Shao, brilliant but still compassionate, reached to unclasp the bounds. Hermann used the new freedom to pull Newton closer, fitting his head under his chin and circling his arms around Newt’s shoulder, holding on for dear life. It seemed to him, that if he let go, for a just a little bit, Newton would be taken away from him forever.

Hermann’s leg was starting to hurt from how uncomfortably he was leaning against the chair, putting most of his weight on it, and his head was splitting with a horrific headache, a result of being so forcefully thrown out of the drift, severed neural link backlashing. It was nothing though, meant absolutely nothing just as Hermann was nothing without his partner.

If Hermann had half a mind left for more casual thoughts he would have been embarrassed by tears streaming down his face and quiet shushing sounds he kept making every time he heard a sad little wimple from Newt. Those sad sounds were growing weaker by the second and the trembling was subsiding. And Hermann had no way to know if it was good or bad.

Shao was watching them intently, unable to keep to her detached professionalism at the face of his misery. But that too, mattered little to Hermann. The important thing was – Newton’s gasps loud in the room and his body sagging suddenly in Hermann’s arms. Still.

Hermann could barely breathe as his fingers flew to Newt’s throat, in such a painfully familiar gesture searching for pulse. He cursed his trembling hand and his messed thoughts for not been able to find a pressure point, of going through _nothing nothing nothing no pulse where…_

“Ah…” Weak heartbeat fluttered under his fingers.

And a realization that in his trance of horror and pain he forgot about the unsteady beeping of the heart monitor.

There was silence, a stillness that came after a storm, not a relief, not yet, but a gleaming beam of hope that everything could still be alright. Slowly, tentatively, Hermann let go of Newton, letting his head fall gently against the back of the chair. Lost, he looked up at Shao.

She was busy checking Newton’s vitals on a monitor of her computer. “Everything seems to be…fine.” She announced reluctantly. “At least where the body is concerned. The mind, however…” Shao straightened up and glanced at Newt’s unconscious form and then to Hermann, looming over him. “Do you have any ideas about what is going to happen when he wakes up?”

Dejection was a sharp needle for his already wounded heart, but Hermann shook his head. “There is no way to know which side won. We can only…” He shrugged, hopeless and so exhausted. “Wait.”

“Alright,” Shao was back to business now and he was grateful for her straight to the point attitude. “There is one thing _I_ know for sure, though. He needs proper medical care and at least a bed. This,” she waved a hand at the shackles, her nose scrunching in distaste. “Is no way to treat a person.”

“Marshal…” Hermann cleared his throat and started again. His head was a mess of memories and reality. “Ranger Pentecost would not agree to that. It was his idea to throw Newton to this basement in the first place.”

“I will deal with him.” A cold confidence in her tone and a sharp upturn of her head left absolutely no place for doubt. It was a trademark of her other side, a calculating CEO, bent on achieving her goals and used to people obeying her orders. Hermann used to find that side of her rather unpleasant, when he only thought the façade was all there was to her persona. Now, he found it reassuring.

Shao’s face softened, “You should get some rest for now.”

“No,” Hermann protested. His voice was weak but his determination booked no argument also. “I will stay with him.”

Tactfully sidestepping that line of conversation Shao conceded, “Alright. I will go and speak with the Rangers now.”

And she left, her stride purposeful and elegant even in simple clothes and a coat she wore to the labs. Not for the first time Hermann found himself marveling at the strength of that woman. As her footsteps faded in the maze of underground tunnels, Hermann collapsed to the floor, stretching his legs out and pressing his back to Newton’s chair. There was nothing left to do but wait.

There was only the sound of heart monitor to fill the silence, however Hermann could not find it reassuring. There was no way to predict which side came up on top in the mess of Newton’s mind. An insane idea of trying out the drift to find out crossed his mind but even Hermann wasn’t desperate enough to try that. And these day he was usually a champion for all the crazy ideas.

What if he messed up? What if by hurrying this along he actually brought Newton’s end closer? It was a treacherous train of thought, wrong in every way, Hermann knew that, but it still kept rearing up its ugly head.

He wished for Newton to wake up. The silence stretched and took over the space, like it was a tangible thing. Hermann’s exhaustion was making itself known; his thoughts were slow and his head felt heavy, reactions sluggish and breathing lethargic.

He must have drifted off because the next thing he knew was people throwing the heavy metal door open all the way so that they could get a gurney in. They were unstrapping Newton from the chair, transferring his still unconscious form. Someone was grabbing Hermann by the elbow, helping him while another person was handing him the cane. He was ushered after the gurney, half-awake still. He recognized some of the people as scientists who came to inspect Newt’s apartment and was once again grateful for how reserved Shao’s crew was. He allowed them to lead him away, eyes never leaving the gurney being wheeled before him. There was no telling what the outcome would be but at least Hermann knew, he had done everything in his power. Now he only needed to see whether his strength was enough to help out Newt.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I was writing for the Captain America BB and completely forgot about everything. Here is the last chapter. I was thinking of maybe making a second part to this, from Newt's POV, since there are still some issues left unaddressed but I'm not sure if I am up to that. I hope you enjoyed the story! And thank you so much to everyone who commented!

First one to barge in was Pentecost. Herman startled from his dozing in a chair by Newt’s bed as at the sound of a door thrown open sharply and heavy footsteps stomping on the floor. He darted, uncharacteristically agile, to put his body between the marching young ranger and the bed. Lambert was hot on his partner’s heels, looking as if he was ready to grab onto Pentecost if his friend got too hotheaded. The last person in this strange procession was Shao, calm and professional, looking very put together with her hair pinned up and a lab coat thrown over a sharp suit. It seemed, she preferred a more refined look for upper levels of the base. Hermann appreciated her effort to look menacing.

“What is going on with him?” Pentecost at least seemed aware of the transfer, no doubt bludgeoned into submission by Shao’s cold logic. It was a shame Hermann lacked the severity to match up to her level; still he got the guts to stand up and protect the person he loved.

“Newton has undergone some tiring challenges while fighting for his life. His body cannot take the emotional toll _and_ the physical burden so Miss Shao and I decided to bring him to a medical unit.”

Room was at the far end of the medical wing, isolated enough to give them privacy and not to have the whole base gossiping. This place had clearly been prepared in advance, so either Shao predicted such a change of plan or she was always ready for any possible scenario. Walls were a sterile white color, rather unpleasant if one were to ask Hermann. All furniture in the same bland tone, along with all the monitors and an only chair, positioned by the bed. He got a small pleasure in acknowledging that Newton must absolutely hate his surroundings once he woke up.

The bed itself was a standard hospital model, with a holographic screen at the feet so the doctor could scroll through vitals and check the patient’s condition. The only addiction where cuffs and leather belts, but even those were of a more tolerable kind, soft on the inside so that not to injure the patient. Newton was bound, but Hermann could see that the bloody bruisers at his wrists had been cleaned and bandaged.

Pentecost was silent as he took in the scene. As Hermann stared him down, ready to fight him off with the force of his glare alone, the man dropped his gaze, the fight leaving him. “Sorry,” he ran a hand over his face tiredly. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

Hermann might have heard something about a jaeger malfunction but he found himself unable to focus on anything other than Newton’s recovery, so he wasn’t sure.

“Did you manage to get rid of…those things. In his head,” he gestured unsurely, craning his neck to have a look at Newt.

“That’s yet to be determined,” Hermann replied in a tone that was flat and sure, surprised at his own calloused display. “We’ll know when he wakes.”

_When._ Never an _if_. But Pentecost didn’t seem to catch Hermann’s small insinuation; or quite possibly he wasn’t aware that precursors frying Newt’s brain was a scenario that still could happen.

“Alright,” Pentecost nodded. Lambert, standing just a pace behind, relaxed visibly. “Keep me updated on the situation. For now, he is our only valid plan to open the breach.”

Hermann had to remind himself not get offended on Newton’s behalf. Pentecost junior was not his father, he had not been there when they scrambled in a mad dash against time and space to save the world. He wasn’t the one who brought together Doctors Gottlieb and Geiszler, an unlikely team but the only ones left. Jake Pentecost didn’t have a connection to the old team, no knowledge of their value and their strength, and no reluctant fondness to that band of misfits.

He stared Jake down, unflinching and cold. He would not be intimidated. Hermann was not afraid to let a hoard of monsters into his head; he would not be scared of one man. Especially not when he had to stand between that man and Newton.

Ranger Pentecost was the first to look away, turning instead to Shao who gave a curt affirmative answer. They would let him know about any progress. After that the two rangers left, and Reyes who had been hovering in the doorway, darted in to share some consoling words. She was perfectly pleasant in her straightforward bland way but Hermann was exhausted from all the hostile socializing and she, acute to others emotions, unlike her colleagues, was quick to notice. Hermann excused himself, leaving her to continue a quiet conversation with Shao.

He slumped into a chair, carefully placed just by the hospital bed. Close enough to cover Newton’s hand with his own if he so wished. Hermann did just so, for a moment running his fingers down Newton’s tattooed forearm, covering his hand with his own. There was no response to his touch, though that was expected, Hermann reminded himself. Newton’s body and mind had suffered severe stress; he needed some time to recover before regaining consciousness. All, perfectly logical. Except, Hermann’s imagination would not stop bombarding him with all the horrible scenarios. They were hard to ignore, more so when he himself was drained.

Hermann fell back against the surprisingly comfortable chair, and closed his eyes. Maybe he could drift off for a while. Maybe even his brain would be too tired to conjure the familiar nightmares.

* * *

 

Time flew, people wandered in and out of the room: Shao with constant tests, a couple of scientists dutifully trailing after, taking blood samples, making notes on the chart. They came and went quietly, not sharing any information, not betraying any emotion. In some way, Hermann was glad at their dispassionate behavior, he would not be able to take any more bad news. Rangers wondered in from time to time. Reyes came by in-between shifts, just distracting him with reports of their progress. New jaegers were almost finished, old ones repaired and updated. New recruits showing some potential. The young rangers proving themselves to be competent and strong. It was nice to hear about the world outside this hospital room, however Hermann couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Pentecost dropped in a couple of times. Reserved and solemn, asking questions about Newt’s condition. He seemed subdued, as if someone had read him a proper lecture on manners since his outburst in the hospital wing. Hermann appreciated his awkward inquiries but at the same time wished the man would leave them alone.

Hermann was mentally exhausted; his was so tired of this anxiety, this worry, so the numbness was starting to set in. He dozed in the chair by Newt’s bedside, limply lifting through a book, still waiting and hoping, but otherwise uncaring about anything else. It was hard to tell how much time had passed.

So, Hermann wasn’t aware if it was day or night when he was jerked from his slumber by a sudden onslaught of people. Doctors rushing in, Shao following in quick determined strides. He looked to her first, thinking something must have happened outside the base, that they were here to get him to help out with a crisis. But she ignored his rushed inquiry in favor of striding to the bed. Only then did Hermann turn to it.

“Newton,” it was a rush to see him awake and looking around the room in confusion.

He was blinking away all the traces of a sleep that lasted too long. Disoriented, he jerked away from a doctor’s touch, only he was too weak to properly shove her away and was gently but swiftly subdued. Newt made a sound of protest, wordless, trying to get away from her again. He struggled against the medical personal trying to hold him down, starting up to speak only to end up with horse words, barely distinguishable. Someone finally managed to shove a cup with a straw into his hands and Newt drunk greedily, still cautious of his surroundings.

That’s when Hermann realized that he had not spoken a word himself, stunned into silence.

“Newton,” he called out. It came weak and horse as well, so he tried again, louder. “Newton.”

That brought out a reaction: Newt stilled for a second and then resumed his struggling, only now instead of trying to get away he was attempting to turn and crane his neck to look around the doctors crowding around his bed. There was a soft sound – that might have been Hermann’s name or might have been distressed plea – Hermann didn’t wait to find out, he sprung to his feet using armrest as a leverage and pushed away one of the doctors to squeeze himself through the crowd and come up to the bed. Newton’s gaze immediately sprung to Hermann’s face and his head fell back on the pillow as he relaxed. His expression cleared and even a small smile made an appearance. He looked tired, but he watched Hermann happily.

“Herms,” the croak was definitely a name now, but it sent cold rushing through Hermann’s veins. He watched Newton’s eyes for traces of electric blue, that mad color haunting his dreams, but there was none of that. Bloodshot and exhausted, with heavy bags underneath, Newt’s eyes looked normal. A weak pale hand was reaching out as far as restrains would allow and Hermann grabbed onto it, wrapping his fingers around Newt’s and sliding his other hand up the tattooed forearm.

“Newton…” There were no words. No. There were so many questions, the biggest one looming over him but with Newt lying there, disoriented and lost, frail with the traces of his physical exhaustion written all over his frame. Still, he tried. “It is going to be fine, now.”

Newt’s hold on him weakened slightly after the reassurance.

“Just let the doctors take care you, alright?”

Hermann took a step back, letting the doctors do their job of checking in on the patient, taking samples and rushing away with them while others continued with the examination. He kept watching Newton’s face, darting around to keep the eye contact since Newt seemed determined to keep his eyes on nothing and no one else. Hermann could not look away either.

Newt barely winced when one of the doctors stuck a needle into his arm, drawing blood. But he did jerk away when they tried to shine a light into his eyes.

“How’s your vision, Doctor Geiszler?”

“Fine, fine,” he waved away the man like he would an irritating fly.

But then, when his gaze caught Hermann’s once again, he frowned and squinted. “Actually,” he muttered. His voice was stronger now, casual intonations coming back and making him sound like himself again. “Everything is kinda…blurry.” Voice lilting upwards at the end, making the statement sound more like a question, a brows scrunching together in an adorable little frown. All those details Hermann didn’t realize he had missed. Details he had not seen in Newton for a long time now. God, how he could have been so blind?

“Eye sight impairment?” One of the doctors immediately suggested and proceeded to shine the light in Newt’s eye again. He was rudely shoved away.

“What? No, dude…” Newt mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Where are my glasses?”

“Oh…” The joy of hearing such a simple yet unexpected question was so high that Hermann felt light-headed for a moment. Hastily, he pattered his pockets, trying to remember where he put them…No, not that one. And not that. Also not there. Where then? Ah…Front pocket. Giddy with triumph Hermann pulled out an old pair of glasses. Newton made a grabby gesture with both hands, accepting the glasses with a grateful hum and sliding them onto his nose.

“Great. Thanks, man.” A quick smile. A glint in his eye.

There was no way for Hermann to stop a silly grin from taking over his face.

* * *

 

It took Newt a while to get used to his surroundings. And especially to Lewin Shao being friendlier to him than he had ever been during the years he worked in her company. That is to say, she had smiled at him once, when congratulating him on the recovery, and was only bossing him around a little. He was still dumbfounded, that much was obvious, but Hermann had shared a tale of how Shao was the one to help him bring Newt back and that seemed to help settle a new image of her in his mind.

Newt had admitted to having hazy memories of the last month – time when precursors were the most insistent on taking full control, but otherwise he retained all his memories. Even when he was taking the back seat to all proceedings, he was aware of his of what was happening. Hermann stayed by his side as much as the medical staff allowed, which was, in truth, almost all the time. He still left to get some sleep once in a while; the first night after Newton woke up Hermann had crashed in the same chair he had been occupying for weeks, dead to the world for more than twelve hours. And that was very unmerciful towards his leg – he could barely walk after waking up and the doctors had to send him away to his rooms anyway.

Newton, looking small and frail but with color returning to his cheeks more and more every day, waved him away, assuring Hermann that he was going to be fine on his own for a couple of hours. There was still some uncertainty in his eyes that Hermann didn’t like, but he truly needed some rest in a proper bed.

They didn’t have any time to talk, what with people coming and going. Hermann didn’t know what he would say anyway. He wanted to make sure Newton was alright. He wanted to assure him that Hermann would be there for him, at his side or hanging in the background, ready for the moment when Newt would need him. A silent support or a vocal encouragement, he could be all that. And more. Whatever Newton needed.

However, the words were hard to say, especially with a threat of interruption so high. Hermann was pleased, happy even to see Newt awake and conscious of who he was, but he was worried still. Newton was subdued, lacking in buoyancy and energy that Hermann came to associate with him. It was obvious how much effort it took to keep up the appearances, but his jokes mostly fell flat, victims to Newton’s lack of interest in his own weak attempts of humor. Hermann still smiled at them, glad even at those attempts to bring things back to normal. His tone was tired and posture exhausted, despite how much time Newt spent resting or sleeping. There was something broken inside of him; the ordeal he went through too big to quickly bounce back. Hermann was more determined than ever to help him through this.

The rangers forbade him from getting Newton a laptop, fearing that the hold of precursors might still be over him and thus cautious of what he might do. Still, no one dared to protest when Hermann took his own tablet to the hospital room and tried to involve Newton into old research. It worked, in some way. They discussed physics and aerodynamic properties of a new jaeger model – something Hermann had been working on for a long time, not hurried by any real threat during the years of peace. It was more of a hobby for him; when no one could truly predict if they would actually still need jaegers, it was a nice way to pass the time – constricting an imaginary machine just because he could.

Newton’s input was reluctant but helpful and as the time went by, he grew more confident.

“No, no, dude, listen,” Newton was waving sporadically, leaning over the bed rail so much Hermann worried he might fall over if he became even more active. “I know you are all about optimizing aerodynamics, but you need this. This.” He stubbed his finger at the tablet, balanced precautious on Hermann’s palm. It wobbled dangerously and Hermann had to drop his phone so he could use his other hand to keep it in place. Newton was still talking, ignoring the chaos his enthusiasm was stirring. “This thing needs to be able to swim. At least rudimentary. You can not let it drop into the ocean and go down like a giant pile of-”

“I get the picture,” Hermann interjected drily.

“Rocks!” Newt shouted out defensively. “I was gonna say rocks.” It came out sullenly and Hermann had to bite on his lip to keep from smiling.

Newton crossed his hands over his chest, thankfully, sitting back on the bed. “I don’t know why you bother asking for my opinion if you never agree with anything I say.”

“I value your input,” Hermann retorted primly, but truthfully.

Newton scoffed and reached for a cup of pudding Herman had snuck from the cafeteria. Doctors insisted on a strict diet so they could monitor the level of the kaiju drug in Newt’s system and Hermann knew he shouldn’t feed him anything unhealthy but he also could not resist indulging Newton a little. He was way too thin anyway, he needed to gain some fat.

They sat in silence for some time, Newton devouring his pudding, Hermann turning the model on his tablet this way and that, figuring out where he could slap some fins on it as well a second set of smaller of engines.

Newton finished his pudding and stuck the empty cup on the table with exaggerated force, it crumpled loudly. Hermann took the gesture as a demand for attention it was and tore away from his notes. Newt wasn’t looking at him, preferring to stare at the plastic table with unseeing eyes. A heavy frown was prominent on his face – immediately spiking some fear in Hermann. He wasn’t sure they could take anything else going wrong. Tempted to start probing when Newton stayed quiet for too long, he still waited. Patience had always been Hermann’s strong point but recently he was running out of it quickly.

“They are ready to discharge me,” Newton muttered.

Hermann waited for a disastrous punch line. When it didn’t come he tried to gently move the conversation along. “That is a good thing…”

“Is it?” Rising his head, looking Hermann straight in the eye, uncharacteristically serious. Or was this his new character? Somber and quiet? “What are they going to do with me, Hermann?”

Nothing, was on the tip of his tongue. Whoever _they_ were, they were not going to harm Newton in any way. No more.

But the words rung untrue even in his mind. Of course, Hermann would stand between Newton and anything that might wish him harm, but would that be enough? Did he have enough power for the both of them? Hermann fought off kaiju just so he could bring back the person he treasured, but could he stand up to prejudice and bureaucracy, people who believed their mission was more important than others’ well-being.

Hermann wasn’t going to lie. “I don’t know,” he admitted. Reached out to cover Newton’s hands with his own; they were cold and gripping the blanket with a white knuckled grip. “But  wherever you go, I will go with you.”

Newt pressed his lips together, fighting back tears. Hermann had no way to know if those were tears of fear or gratitude. He just held on and hoped for the best.

* * *

 

Newton was let out of the hospital wing a couple days later. There was no big debacle as Hermann had expected, setting himself for a fight – nothing like that. Pentecost showed up with Shao, carefully explained that they could not let Newton wander around freely, there was still doubt in them about precursors’ presence in Newt’s mind, and suggested he was to be confined to his rooms. It was a plausible solution, as far as Hermann was concerned. Not a fair one by a long shot, in his opinion, but still a better outcome than he expected.

“It’s a nice room,” Pentecost commented with a shrug. It seemed, he was trying to make up for his horrible treatment of Newt at the beginning. “Rooms, actually.” He ran a hand over the back of his head, looking around awkwardly.

“Alright!” Almost believably upbeat. Newt was standing in the middle, people around watching him with wearily hopeful expressions. They got him an army uniform to wear, khaki pants with matching jacket, thrown on carelessly, sleeves rolled up, unbuttoned over a sand-colored t-shirt. Devoid of color and style he looked washed out, a mere ghost of his old self. Once again, Hermann had to remind himself that he could not expect things to go to normal so quick. They might never reach of ‘normalcy’ he strived for; but that was fine. As long as Newton felt comfortable.

“Show the way!”

And they did. It seemed almost, _almost_ like he was lead under a convoy with Pentecost in the lead, a couple of soldiers for protection and Lambert joining in at the hospital doors to bring up the rear. People stared, whispered to each other. From what Hermann had gathered, Newton’s involvement in the attack was kept under the wraps. Of course everything who had been at the command center knew, all the rangers involved in protecting the city, some Shao Industries employers…the list was way too long for comfort, but somehow the word did not go out into the world. Thank god for small miracles and to people who knew how to keep a secret. So it were mostly gazes of curiosity that followed Newton’s way across the base.

The rooms did turn out to be nice, or as nice as army base quarters went. A bedroom and a living room with small kitchen area. They were also right next door to Hermann’s.

Newton kept quiet as they entered, during the tour that lasted all of fifty seconds and only said a weak goodbye as his convoy left. Hermann stood at his side, they both looking at the door being closed from the outside. Hermann had a passcode to move in and out as he pleased, Newton was not allowed out of the perimeter. There were two guards posted in the corridor. A small precaution, Lambert had explained in his easy manner, but he would not meet their eyes as he said that.

“Well…” Newton intoned. “This is better than I expected.”

Hermann reached to take his hand. “Sure,” he replied in good humor. Because that’s what they needed. Humor. Lightness. If Newton did not have any of his own, the Herman would supply some.

Newton squeezed his fingers, holding on for dear life. Still, his smile when he turned to look at Hermann was light. “I think we’ll manage.”

“Yes,” Hermann smiled in return. He believed they would.

**Author's Note:**

> As you can I see I have a slight dislike to Jake. I mostly liked him in the movie, it's only the last scene that irritated me. I will be nicer to him later, promise.


End file.
